Untouchable
by 22blue
Summary: Fictionista Workshop June WitFits. What do you do when there's a connection between you and someone who's untouchable? Absolutely nothing. AH, short chapters. Friendship, romance, maybe some angst?
1. Hunt

A/N: Yes, I know. Please check out my profile for an update.

However, if you decide to go on and read, thanks. Chapters will be really short since prompts come out daily, and none of them will be beta'd. One small note at the end.

Disclaimer: All publicly recognized characters belong to their respective owners.

* * *

There was this moment we accidentally stared at each other longer than we should have.

In the kitchen of the downtown Hilton, we stood about twenty feet from one another in the midst of the chaos that preceded a charity event we were working. I don't remember how it started, or who saw whom first, only that neither of us blinked during those long seconds our eyes had locked. We didn't exchange smiles or nod in recognition as coworkers would. No, it wasn't like that at all because for the first time in two years, Edward and I just looked at each other.

There was want, bittersweet relief in an unspoken admission that what we felt was something a little bit more than friendship. Servers hurried by on their hunt for trays to fill with hors d'oeuvres entirely unaware they'd walked through this _thing_ that altered everything and changed nothing.

That was three years ago, and since then I've had that moment tucked deep in my pocket like a shiny penny.

But Edward Cullen is totally and completely untouchable. The thing is, he's married.

* * *

A/N: Edward is married but neither he or Bella are cheaters. There will be no cheating. None.


	2. Stripe

"Hey, Mom? _Mom!_ Where's my project? _Mom!_"

"You have to give me more than two seconds to answer, sweetie," I say, coming down the steps. Garrett, my son the neat freak, is in spaz mode because the kitchen table is covered by my spreadsheets. Last night he finished his diorama (a miniature habitat of Alaskan wolves made out of clay, spray snow, and as many twigs as he could find in our back yard) and left it in the middle of the table. Garrett even covered it in plastic wrap so our cat, Felix, wouldn't mess with it.

"Where is it?" His eyes are practically bugging out of his head. I point to the top of the refrigerator and his shoulders instantly relax. "Oh, thank God," he says.

"Dramatic much?"

"Mom."

"Sorry. Did you honestly think I'd let anything happen to it, Professor?"

"No, but…"

"But nothing." I pull the diorama off the top of the fridge and hand it to him. He's ten, average height for his age but can't reach too far above the freezer just yet. "It's beautiful, you know? Fantastic job on the details."

"Thanks. Did you see the stripe I added to this one's back? Technically, it's not an exact replica of the gray wolf that lives in the arctic tundra, but I thought it added character. I don't think Mrs. Clearwater will mind, though. I mean, the model _is_ to scale." And this is how my son earned the nickname Professor.

"Oh, yeah. Good call, Professor." He's so proud and I can't help but beam right along with him. The diorama really is quite impressive. Glancing at the clock, I give him a nudge. "It's getting late. Hurry up and fix your PB and J before you miss the bus…again."

I watch Garrett spread peanut butter—creamy, never chunky—on the bread then slather grape jelly on top and wonder how his dad could walk away from him. Me? Sure, my marriage to Sam was a mistake and we both knew it about six months after we'd said "I do." But Garrett? Garrett's perfect. Part of me feels sorry for Sam because he has no idea what he's missing. The other part, well, not so much.

Ten minutes later, Garrett runs out the door to catch the bus, his wolf project cradled carefully yet securely in his arms. I'd barely gotten a goodbye kiss on the cheek from him. My sweet boy is going to be too big too soon to give me hugs much less a kiss on the cheek, so I'll take all I can get now.

Before I get weepy about it, my phone buzzes with a text.

**Danger, Will Robinson. Carmen's on the warpath. ~Edward**


	3. Shoulder

Prompt: Shoulder

* * *

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself."

"So, what's the problem?" I ask Edward. He spins around in his chair to face me then nods for me to sit.

"Carmen's pissed because we didn't get Mayor Gray's birthday gala."

"Crud. Vicki got it?"

"Yup," he says, crinkling his nose. "She undercut us by five percent."

"You're kidding! Oh, man, this is so not good."

"Tell me about it." Edward laughs, shaking his head. He's obviously not worried about our company losing our ticket into the world of Washington, D.C. Personally, I'm not too concerned about it either, but planning political events would be kind of fun.

Carmen's had grandiose visions of monopolizing all parties and fundraisers within a 100 mile radius surrounding Pennsylvania Avenue for years, but especially anything to do with politics. Since she lost the job to Vicki, she's going to be an absolute bear to be around for the next week. Maybe two. Jeez, I hope not two.

I lean back in the chair and cross my legs. Edward's eyes flicker down then quickly back up to mine. "Yeah, so," he says, "I hope she doesn't give Angie a hard time. Apparently, Vicki was waiting to pounce and came in with a second proposal minutes before the deadline."

"She's such a dirty schemer," I say and he nods, scratching the back of his neck.

We sit in silence for a minute or so, him fiddling with a pen and me glancing around his office. I've been in here a million times and nothing ever changes, except for a layer of dust that's sometimes present. He has a few pictures on his shelves, mainly of his two German Shepherds: Jack and Sparrow. There's one of all of us from our company picnic a couple of years ago, and then, of course, a picture of him and his wife, Leah.

I smile and tilt my head toward the door. "I'm gonna get to work. Thanks for the warning."

"I didn't want you walking into a possible tornado," he says.

"I appreciate that, Sir."

"Anytime, Ma'am."

* * *

The morning was relatively quiet—I avoided Carmen like the plague, though. She didn't seem to be too, too angry aside from a couple of door slams. In a small office of twenty people that sound is rather loud, so we all just busied ourselves with work, pretending like it was any other day, ignoring her mood. Angie said Carmen didn't fault her at all to which I was really glad.

I chowed down a sandwich at my desk, deciding to forgo lunch out with Edward, Angie, and Rose because the job I have coming up in a month is getting a little hairy. It's a smallish benefit a local couple is hosting that's going to take place at a golf course followed by dinner and an auction. Attendance started out at a mere two hundred guests and yesterday I received a call from my contact who nonchalantly upped the list to three hundred, like it was no big deal. Really, it's not that much of a hassle since the event is thirty days out, but it is a pain, and I hope she doesn't call back adding more people.

Playing around with a seating chart, there's suddenly a hand holding a brown paper bag in front of my face and the other rests lightly on my shoulder. I should, but I don't move.

"Rose said you'd kill us if we didn't bring back a piece of cheesecake for you."

"Ooo! She's right," I say, snatching the bag from Edward. He steps back as I turn around and shoves his hands into his pockets. "Thanks."

"No problem."

"Chocolate."

"Yep."

"I love chocolate cheesecake."

"Yeah, I know. Hey," he starts, backing away while I tear into the bag, "you're still going to the Nats game Saturday, right? Bringing Garrett?"

My mouth is full, so I answer by nodding. My God this cheesecake is almost better than an orgasm…I think. It's been a long time, a really long time.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	4. Field

Prompt: field

Dialogue flex: "Happy anniversary!" she said.

Still not beta'd, so please overlook the over/underusage, of, commas,.

* * *

Twice a year Carmen, well, _Monumental Events_, splurges on outings for the employees and our families. We're not a huge company, but Carmen does well enough to spoil us every so often, especially around the winter holidays.

A couple days after the fiasco of losing the Mayor's birthday party we acquired a wedding. But oh, not just any wedding, _the_ Senator Black from Washington State and his lovely fiancé have been added to our client list. Needless to say, Carmen is a bit happy. She visited Vicki that afternoon to tell her the good news; I'd have loved to have been a fly on the wall to hear that conversation.

Apparently, the senator's fiancé is a native of Virginia and she wants the wedding here. That and the fact that she went to college with Rose might have had something to do with us landing the account, but no matter—instead of taking the Metro into the game tonight we arrived by limo busses, so we all benefitted from this triumph.

Garrett nearly flipped when they rolled into the parking lot back at the office. He gawked and went on about how they looked like something from the future. After we boarded our bus Garrett pestered the driver for almost the entire 45 minute ride, asking what each button's purpose was, how the floor lit up, was it anything like the car from the movie _Back to the Future_?

"I'm sorry—I hope he didn't bother you too much," I sheepishly said to the driver.

"No worries. I have a few inquisitive grandkids myself." He tipped his hat to us as we stepped off the bus, promising Garrett a treat on the way home.

Garrett's fascination of late with all things sci-fi is great, but I'm really inept on the subject. Though, we did make it through his Jurassic period phase unscathed, meaning the Professor didn't lose all patience with his mom, I think we'll survive this round, too.

So, here we are seated half-way up behind third base, and it's gorgeous out tonight. The sun has just set, turning the April sky a perfect cerulean behind the lights that surround the stadium. Players are warming up in the field—the Braves first, and I scoot back in my seat, settling in for the game.

Hot dog in hand, my son, who's bouncing in his seat between me and Edward, eyes the cotton candy guy as he makes his way up and down the aisles.

"Pace yourself," I tell Garrett. "Let's wait a little while before you start with the sugar." _Because we're eating so healthy now._

"Promise I can get one?"

"Sure, just not too much junk tonight, okay?"

"Aw, come on, Mom," Edward says, teasing. "It's tradition to load up on fats and sugars at ballgames, and you don't break tradition."

I lean forward, playfully glaring at Edward. "You're not the one who'll have to deal with tummy aches during the fifth inning."

He raises his hands in surrender, laughing then turns to Garrett. "Men don't get _tummy_ aches, do they?"

"No, we don't." Garrett looks at me, pointedly, and I shake my head.

Leah nudges Edward. "Behave," she says then apologizes to me.

I want to hate this woman.

I'm an awful, horrible person, I know. But I want to loathe her. What with her perfect skin and shiny black hair, but I can't. She's sweet and kind…pretty. _Young_. She's like seven years younger than Edward—not that it matters, but she is which means she's exactly that much younger than me. The few times we've been around each other we've gotten along really well, and I wish… I don't know.

I don't know what I wish because it changes all the time.

Still, Edward and I gravitate toward each other. We always have, though it's one hundred percent unintentional. Sometimes we're on the exact same wavelength about work stuff, or have battles quoting Seinfeld. Or we simply talk. Not once have I thought about acting on the butterflies he gives me. I'd never do that to him, to Leah…to me. But my mind wanders. Like him feeding me chocolate cheesecake. Or _other_ things.

_I have to stop._

Edward exasperatedly rolls his eyes for effect and squeezes Leah's knee. The two of them begin talking with Mike from accounting who's sitting a row in front of us.

Rose is to my right, Angie on the other side of her and I gladly partake in the discussion about Senator Black's upcoming nuptials. Rose is super excited that she's in charge of the account. She's all flaily hands, giving us the G-rated version of hers and the fiancé's trysts from college. I turn back and forth between Rose and Garrett, holding two conversations at once when a burst of laughter erupts from Leah and Mike.

""Happy Anniversary!" he said," Leah cries, giggling.

Edward glimpses at me, almost embarrassed. He whistles to the cotton candy guy and holds up three fingers.

* * *

More from the ballgame tomorrow.

Thanks so much for reading, and especially thanks for adding to your alerts/faves, and for reviewing. I apologize for not answering reviews, but I appreciate every single one of them. :)


	5. Water

Prompt: water, daughter, slaughter

thanks, sncmom ;)

* * *

Edward passes money down our row to the vendor then the conveyor belt of hands returns three giant clouds of pink sugar, but he only takes one for himself, gesturing that Garrett and I take the other two.

"You didn't have to buy these for us," I say, picking off a piece and letting it melt in my mouth. Garrett, of course, is thrilled.

Edward just smiles and shrugs, and hands Leah the third cotton candy.

"Quite the romantic, eh, Ed?" Mike teases, still red in the face from laughing. I guess whatever was so funny a few seconds ago was at Edward's expense…something about a very _un_romantic anniversary gift.

"I do what I can, man," Edward says, glancing down at his shoes. His expression isn't playful, but he and Leah settle back into their seats, she lays her head on his shoulder.

For the entire game I pay no attention to Edward, not in a rude way, but I'm certainly not going be relaxed like I am with him at the office.

_How messed up is that?_

But really, how messed up is it that Edward is spontaneously buying me sweets? Twice in one week? If I were Leah, it'd piss me off.

This thing with Edward is not one-sided—I'm not delusional. But I can't do this anymore. So, I'm done. It's silly for me to think or hold on to or whatever it is that I'm doing, that _we're _doing, because of this unspoken knowledge that there truly is something between me and Edward.

A getaway is what I need. Maybe Garrett and I could visit my mom and dad for a long weekend. Garrett's stress about missing a day or two of school would instantly vanish once we pulled up to their property—he adores it there. Mom and dad own a lot of land about an hour away. They have a fishing pond, a huge wraparound porch, and tons of quiet save crickets chirping in the evenings. It's the perfect place to just…veg.

By the ninth inning, Garrett is curled up in a ball on my lap, holding on to my bottle of water. I think all of us are drained, especially since the Braves slaughtered the Nats: 9-2.

The white noise and rocking of the limo bus causes me to nod off on the way home and we make it back to the parking lot in what seems record time. Simultaneously, I'm tugging and holding up Garrett as we descend the steps of the bus, careful he doesn't trip in his semi-conscious state, but as if a light has flicked on he shoots a hopeful look to the driver.

"Did you think I'd forget?" the driver asks. "Now, listen carefully. This is special, all right? You keep it in a safe place." He hands Garret something as my coworkers yell goodbye to each other, hopping in their cars to head home. I wave to some, stifling a yawn.

"It's a piece of quartz. Cool!" Garrett holds it inches from his curious little face.

"You knew that?"

"Yeah—"

"Yes," I gently correct.

"I mean, _yes_. I have a book about rocks at home…Thanks!"

"You're welcome."

I thank the driver, wondering if he has a stash of colorful rocks he keeps and _why _even.

Garrett has cement legs all over again walking to our car. As I get him buckled in the back seat Edward pulls up, rolls down his window.

"You guys good?" he asks.

"We're fine."

"Okay. Well, see you Monday."

"Bye, Bella, Garrett," Leah says, snuggling further into the leather seat of their black SUV.

I wave goodbye. First thing tomorrow I'm calling my parents to see if they're available next weekend.


	6. Disdain

Prompt: disdain

* * *

"Carmen, I'm going to take off on Monday. I'll have my laptop and cell, but the Whitlock benefit is under control."

"No problem, Bella. Is everything all right?"

Carmen tucks her dark hair behind her ear. She's sincere, pretty fantastic to work for, but I swear she sees right through me. Or maybe she doesn't. She probably doesn't. I'm being paranoid, like I've been all week.

"Everything's fine. I'm taking Garrett to my parent's place for a few days before it gets crazy around here." And it will, too. _That_ much is not a lie.

For days, I warred with myself whether taking Garrett out of school was solely for selfish reasons or not. It started that way, I admit, but the more I thought about it, the more logical it became.

The two weeks prior to any event is insane: long hours, constant emails, phone calls, you name it. We'll do whatever it takes to ensure things run without the slightest hiccup and the client is happy. Garrett will spend more time with Mrs. Cope, our neighbor aka babysitter extraordinaire, and as accommodating as she is he shouldn't have to spend more hours with his babysitter than his own mother. I miss him.

"Are you sure? You've kind of been on edge for a few days."

_Damn._

Wait.

Is she asking if the Whitlock job is under control or if I am?

I decide to play dumb, tilt my head, squint a little so I appear only mildly confused by her assessment. Avoid any further personal questions. "Have I? Wow, I hadn't realized. No, no, things are running as smooth as silk. They're great. Perfect. Couldn't be better." I add a confident bob of the head for good measure. "Yep."

But Carmen's expression is full-on confusion. "Um, okay. Well, have fun then."

_Smooth_.

"Thanks. We will."

I turn to leave, keeping my head down as I head back to my office, and naturally, because the universe is cruel, I run smack into Edward. Cruel universe or just a really small office, _he is always there_.

And he smells good.

_Screw you, universe._

"Whoa." He laughs, righting me with his hands on my arms. I immediately stiffen, he feels it and all traces of his amusement dissolve. "What's going on with you, Bella?"

"Nothing." I step back, and it's not until I do that he drops his hands.

"Really? You've been a million miles away lately, not to mention...tense."

"No, Edward, I'm right here like I always am." I snap. "And I'm not _tense_."

A moment later, I apologize, dismissively waving my hand between us. The disdain I feel toward him is just half his fault.

Edward crosses his arms in front of his chest, looks around, but he doesn't move nor does he say anything.

So we stand there, unmoving, not speaking, but then he catches my eyes and he's telling me a million things only I have no idea what they are.

* * *

Sorry, guys! Time got away from me, so a longer update tomorrow. And then on Saturday, Edward's POV.

Thanks so much for reading. :)


	7. Clutter

Prompt: clutter

* * *

"Okay," Edward finally says.

"Okay."

"I'll um, talk to you later."

"Sure…Actually, probably not. I've got a lot of things to finish up, so have a good weekend. Tell Leah I said hi," I say sincerely. Sincerely enough, anyway.

"Oh, all right, I will. You have a good weekend too, Bella."

It's one of those awkward moments when your feet are ready to move, but you don't, as if you're waiting for the other person to go first yet they're not, and you know they're feeling that same uneasiness you are. Yeah, that's what Edward and I are doing and I huff a small laugh at the absurdity of the situation. I'm relieved no one seems to be the wiser. No lingering glances our way or cautious footfalls around us.

"See ya later, Edward." I walk past him to my office and close the door.

* * *

Felix has been mewling in his carrier the entire drive to my parents' which in turn has made Garrett anxious. He's asked repetitively if we could let him out to roam the back seat.

"He's scared, buddy. Remember last time he tried to claw his way out of the car?"

"No."

"You don't? I do."

"He won't be bad, Mom. I'll make sure," he says, his hand poised to open the wire door.

"I know you will, but I really think it's safer for him if he stays in his carrier. We're almost there anyway."

Garret sighs, knowing he's lost this battle. "All right," he says, shoulders droopy.

"Perk up, G. There's a fishing pole with your name on it waiting for you to catch a gazillion fish."

Garrett stubbornly tries to hide his smile. He loves fishing with my dad, and when he peeks into the rearview mirror to discover I'm watching him between watching the road, he makes a goofy face. We do this until he's giggling and then before we know it, we're here.

I always forget how much I love this place. Even the drive, when there's not a crying cat in the back seat harshing my mellow, is fantastic. It's all hills and lush green, hundred-year-old trees and mountains in the distance.

Sometimes I toy around with the idea of moving out here, working remotely when possible, but Garrett has his friends, soccer, Lego League. And there's not a lot to do here unless…well, there's really nothing to do.

So for now, we visit.

Mom's made Garrett's favorite dinner: spaghetti, bread, and ridiculously large meatballs. Garlic and tomatoes waft heavily, and it smells so, so good; I'm famished.

Wire, feathers, brightly colored rubber worms, and hooks among other things clutter the kitchen table. The Professor has zeroed in on the assembly line my dad has going on; I can practically see the gears turning inside his brain, wanting to create the "best lure ever", but I remind him to set up Felix's things first.

After we've finished eating, catching up on school, my work, mom's substitute job at the prep school not too far from here, and dad's new riding mower, dad and Garrett head out to the pond.

"Come back before dark, Charlie," Mom yells from the porch. Each of us holding a glass of wine.

"No, Renee, I think we'll stay til lunch tomorrow," he shoots back, joking. He shakes his head to Garrett, says something and they both have a good laugh, but they pick up the pace, now jogging toward the pond.

Mom throws her hand at him, rolls her eyes then motions for me to sit.

"I'm glad you two came out. Garrett's getting so big."

"He is. Already started buying all new clothes for summer."

"Maybe we can go shopping while you're here? Allow me to spoil my only grandson a bit?" she says, like I ever deny her the opportunity.

Though, my parents are not wealthy by certain standards, they do just fine. Both retired, my dad a former police officer and my mom a teacher, they invested well. The only reason mom subs occasionally is to keep herself occupied, at least that's what she tells everyone. Honestly, I think she needs a break from dad every once in a while.

"Sure, Mom. He'd like that…if you can get him away from the fish, of course."

She laughs. "True. There's a new mall about an hour west of here—remember I told you about it? Let's go there tomorrow. Or Sunday."

"Either day works. So, how are you guys? Is dad still managing the maintenance of this place okay?"

She sets her glass down on the wooden table between us. "Did you not hear him waxing poetic about his love for John Deere?"

"I think I zoned out after the first ten minutes," I say, taking a sip from mine, and mom laughs, nods knowingly.

Only the edge of the sun can be seen beyond the trees; the boys will be gone for another hour and a half. I rest my head back against the chair and close my eyes, listening to the leaves rustling in the breeze.

"This is nice," I say.

"Well, you know my answer to that."

"Maybe one day, Mom."

"Fair enough. How's everything with you? You know, personally?"

Turning my head toward her, I open one eye. "Are you asking if I'm seeing anyone? No, I haven't been out on a date since I can't remember when."

"You're thirty-five, sweetheart. Life doesn't wait."

"I'm fine, Mom," I warn. "Really." No way I'm going to mention anything about Edward. One, she'd have a cow, and two…there's nothing to say.

"Have you heard from Sam at all?" she asks, momentarily satisfied.

"Unfortunately for Garrett, not in the past sixth months."

I listen to her tsk about Sam—she's not saying anything I don't already know. Sure, Garrett asks about his dad and yes, he certainly feels abandoned by the bastard at times, so do I overcompensate every now and then? Bet your ass I do.

Still, I allow my mom let off steam about him. It sucks. It sucks in a major way, but we do the best we can.

* * *

Garrett fell asleep easily, obviously worn out by the full day. Felix is curled up at Garrett's feet on the edge of the bed, purring like mad, but I swear he's giving me the evil eye because I wouldn't let him out of his carrier.

"Don't be mad," I whisper to him. "Remember I'm the one who buys your food."

I kiss Garrett on his forehead, and he stirs, looks at me through sleepy eyes. "Wake me up at six, okay?" he says, his voice scratchy.

"Grandpa will. Go back to sleep, but come give me a kiss before you go."

"Okay. Love you, Mommy."

"Love you, too."

It's still early, around ten, but mom and dad are sound asleep. I head to my room with my laptop to check work emails, probably hit Target's website to see if they're having any sales on Legos or Transformers, and _oh_, I forgot Garrett asked about some kind of watch, or something. I'll have to ask him tomorrow what he's looking for.

I'll also have to gently persuade my parents to allow me to buy a new mattress for my bed or at the very least a pad because this one is way too hard. Trying to get comfortable, I open my email, and scroll down the list.

About seventeen of them are reply alls.

Perfect. That was five minutes of my life I'll never get back.

One from Rose, another from Edward, and one from Angie.

The cursor hovers over Edward's email which has a subject line that reads: Earlier today. He sent it at 7:00 p.m., and I wonder if he was still at work or at home.

I switch off the laptop; Edward isn't going to get into my head this weekend.


	8. Scooter

Prompt: scooter

As promised, EPOV

Big thanks to sncmom for reading on the spot for content.

* * *

It's late Saturday morning, too hot for early May, and my shirt clings to my back from sweat. Jack's tongue hangs from the side of his mouth as he pants. He peers up at me with those soulful eyes of his. "Good boy," I tell him and scratch behind his ears. He straightens his stance—always so proud. Jack is eighty pounds of fur, muscle, and heart, and the old guy works hard to keep up with Sparrow on our runs each morning. She's dancing around my legs, waiting for her scratch too.

We stopped at the park to rest, and sitting on one of the shaded benches, I tip my water bottle down, alternating between Jack and Sparrow, giving them each enough to drink to tie them over until we get home. Normally, I wouldn't keep Jack out on such a long run, but my head has been elsewhere.

I can't stop thinking about Bella, and how I need to let go. I wonder if she's read the email I sent last night.

From the first time I met Bella I've been drawn to her. Every basic conversation we have, the silent recognitions when I _know_ she's thinking the exact same thing as me…she gets me, never needing an explanation, she understands. But it's not even that; I get her, too.

Then, of course, there's the physical part: she's beautiful. And she has no clue she is, either, which makes her that much more attractive.

Even after five years of working with her, my senses haven't dulled one bit. I'd have thought the pull would've lessened by now, that I'd get used to seeing her every day, but I haven't and I'm an asshole.

I was dating Leah when I met Bella but she was married. Right before Bella split with her husband, I married Leah. I have no regrets. I love Leah, but there are a lot of times I ask what if. See? Asshole.

Kids race by on scooters, and Jack goes on full alert, Sparrow attempting to imitate his awareness. Though he's still lying on the ground, his ears perk while his head lifts, she sits tall. I can feel her tug at her leash, the need to just go because all she wants to do is run and play—she's still a puppy, technically—but she's mindful of Jack, doesn't budge an inch.

"Good girl, Sparrow." Once the kids are out of sight we start to head home.

* * *

"Come out with us, babe!" Leah shouts from the bedroom.

"What? With you and your girls from the bank? You know you only want me to go so you'll have a designated driver."

"Nah. Emily doesn't drink," she says, coming around the corner in a little black dress. "Come. It'll be fun."

Leah slips between me and the counter. She takes the knife and sets it down next to the peppers I've chopped. The towel draped over my shoulder is next, and smiling like she's up to something, she wipes my hands then puts them on her hips.

"Not hungry?"

"Oh, I'm hungry." Her hands slide up my chest and around my neck.

"I see."

"Come on, babe," she says, kissing my throat. "We have a whole hour before I leave."

"Wait, I thought we were having dinner. I thought you weren't going out until later."

"No, I told you. Dinner then drinks."

"I don't remember."

"Shocking."

She presses up against me, moves my hand to her ass.

"You're gonna get all wrinkled."

"Don't care," she mumbles against my neck, pushing her hips against me. "Come on."

We're all lips and tongue while walking toward the bedroom, Leah undressing me along the way. She unzips her dress, lets it drop to the floor then falls back on the bed.

"Take me, you beast." She laughs.

I jump on her, mostly the mattress, the headboard knocking against the wall. She stretches her neck to kiss me, both of us wildly ridding our bodies of what clothing still remains. My heart pounds, she's breathing heavily, and I want to. I want to be with my wife, but there's one small problem.

"Why aren't you…Edward?"

"It's okay. Give me a minute."

"Let me help."

"No, I've got this."

We're both trying, _really_ trying but it's no use. This has never happened to me before. _Ever_.

She sighs, gets off the bed and slips back into her dress. "It's okay, babe. It happens, I guess."

"You guess?" I say, pulling my arms through my t-shirt. "No, it definitely does not just _happen_."

"Edward, relax. It's not like you've got to run out and buy Viagra."

"Funny."

Leah rolls her eyes and sits beside me on the bed. "I'm kidding," she says. "I love you. I wouldn't care if that's what it took now or twenty years from now. It's probably for the best anyway—I was going to ask you to wear a condom and I know how much you hate them."

"What? Why?"

"Forgot to take my pill this morning, but don't worry, I took it a little while ago."

"Leah, a few hours wouldn't make a difference."

"Well, yes it could, and I'm not taking any chances. We're sticking to the plan: no kids until I'm thirty." She stands, walks to the mirror and brushes her hair.

Leah believes that life be dictated by plans. Map everything out in yearly increments. House, kids, retirement. She's got it all figured out.

I'm not entirely convinced, though. "Things change, Leah. Would it be so bad to have a kid now? What if you can't get pregnant right away? I don't want to be an old man when he or she graduates high school. What's wrong with a little spontaneity every once in a while?"

"Spontaneously deciding to have a child is a bad idea, Edward," she says.

"That's not what I'm talking about. Shave off a year. Six months. Hell, why not start trying next month? Why do we have to wait three years?" The words just fall out of my mouth; I don't want kids right now. One day, absolutely. But Leah never bends and it drives me crazy, so I push her.

She sets down her brush and looks at me through the mirror. "Because I don't want any regrets."

* * *

It's midnight and Leah hasn't come home yet. No calls or texts. Not a word. I didn't ask her to elaborate what she meant about regrets, but I know she wasn't referring to timing.

I'm fucking things up with her—my whole heart isn't here where it should be, with Leah, and I know this is why I couldn't do anything with her earlier. Jesus. I fucking hope that's the only reason.

She deserves for me to get my head out of my ass, and I have to try.

Sparrow whines by the front door, so I take her and Jack out one more time before bed. Trying to wake up Jack requires some effort, and I can't begin to fathom that he probably only has a few years left with me. Refuse to comprehend is more like it. I've had him since he was ten weeks—we've been through a lot together.

Jack finds his spot on the floor as soon as we come back inside, and Sparrow hops up on the couch next to me. Leah will kill me if she finds any hair on the cushions, and I really don't want to get into with her.

"Down, girl," I tell her. She hesitates. "Down." She obeys then lies next to Jack.

I should wait up for Leah to come home. She'd like that, I think. To know I cared that she got home safely. Of course, I do, I mean…why wouldn't I?

Another twenty minutes and still no Leah. I wonder if I should text her, but I don't want her to think I don't trust her. I decide to wait a little longer.

Flipping through the channels, I stop on an old Seinfeld episode. It's the one about the soup Nazi, and I smile, thinking how bad Bella's accent is when she says, "No soup for you!"

Lights flash through the window followed by a car door slamming, and I jolt upright.

Leah walks in, spots me on the couch and crinkles her eyebrows together. "Still up?" she asks, locking the door behind her.

"Yeah. Just wanted to make sure you got home okay."

"Oh, well, I did. How was your night? Ugh, Edward. Seinfeld again? Don't you get tired of watching the same shows over and over?" She tosses her purse in a chair then flops next to me.

"Not really. Have fun?"

She yawns. "Mmhm. You missed a good time." She kisses my cheek. "I'm off to bed. Night."

Leah's up quickly; I don't stop her. "Night."

The television sounds too loud suddenly and subtle traces of alcohol and perfume linger where Leah was sitting. I like her perfume; it's fruity. I can hear her rummaging through our bathroom. Shadows sporadically alter at the end of the hall from her switching lights on and off, and then it's dark and silent.

I'm not tired. I should crawl into bed with Leah, but I'm not tired and all my tossing and turning will keep her awake. I'll wait another few minutes.

But if she wanted me to come to bed, wouldn't she have asked?

A couple more minutes, and I'll go.

I flip through infomercials, Saturday Night Live, ESPN, but nothing holds my attention.

Five more minutes.

I emailed Bella last night from home. Leah was out running errands, and I felt as though I was cheating even though what I'd written was anything but romantic. It was an apology for doing something I didn't know I'd done, and to let her know if anything was bothering her that she could talk to me. It was sincere in the friendliest manner.

It took less time to compose that email than it did for me to switch on my computer. Easy. So why, thirty minutes after my wife is home can I not get off this couch to be with her?

I'm going to try harder.

I open up my laptop, find the sent email then retract and delete it.

* * *

As always, thank you for reading. No prompt on Sundays so I'll see you Monday.


	9. Dilute

Prompt: dilute

Dialogue flex: "I sure could use a cold drink right about now."

unbeta'd

A couple of you mentioned the thing about retracting and deleting the already sent email. My interoffice email is like that, and thank goodness it is! Not that I've ever had to use it, but it's nice to know it's there in case ever a rant is to be made. :)

* * *

Sunday came and went.

I didn't check my email even though it drove me crazy to know what he'd written, like wrapped presents underneath a Christmas tree.

_Be strong_. _Don't peek_. And I didn't. Go me.

But then Monday rolled around.

A little after eight that morning I logged on not to open _his_ message but because it was a work day. At least that was the reason I told myself. There were few new ones, nothing major, although one went missing: Edward's.

_Well_, I thought. _That's that_. All the better.

On Tuesday, it was business as usual.

More or less.

He holed himself up in his office, and I saw him once, maybe twice and only for seconds at a time. I walked by him on my way back from the Keurig. I said hello, he said hello, and with his head down, he kept walking. I wanted to ask him if he was all right, if he was angry with me about my little outburst on Friday, but I let it go.

Wednesday he went out to lunch with Mike and Eric. Wednesdays Rose, Angie, Edward, and I always order from the deli. Wednesdays are Reuben days.

As if the beginning of the week wasn't already awkward enough, Thursday was just plain uncomfortable. His obvious avoidance of me and only me was nearly embarrassing.

"What'd you do to Edward?" Angie asked.

"I have no idea," I said, but I knew. He finished something that never should have been started. I tell myself this is a good thing.

It's Friday, and I'm waiting to meet Mrs. Whitlock at Amphora Bakery for a tasting. We've spoken on the phone several times, have met in person twice at the office, but those two meetings were enough for Edward and I to have dubbed her Hypnotic Bubble Breaker Lady.

A small pang finds itself settled comfortably in my chest. I don't like it. I miss being friends with Edward.

"Bella!" she says, flitting through the door. She walks steadfast straight toward me, doesn't slow down until she's standing not even six inches from me. For an older woman, she moves pretty lithe. In this place where the aroma of cake is so pronounced, her Listerine breath cuts through it all. Alice Whitlock does not know the meaning of personal space.

"Mrs. Whitlock," I say, taking a small step back. "How are you?"

"Stop. Call me Alice," she says, inching closer, and she stares directly into my eyes.

"All right. Alice. How was your week?"

Wow. She has the biggest pupils. And her eyelashes are perfectly separated. How does she do that? There's not a trace of mascara clumped anywhere. Her forehead is smooth, too. Zero wrinkles —she has to be at least my mom's age. I wonder if she gets Botox.

"Bella?"

"What? Sorry, what?"

"I said it was fine, dear. How was yours?"

I step back again, shaking the fog from my head. This bakery is pretty small; we're going to have to find a table like now before I start counting the hairs in her eyebrows.

"Fine, thank you. Let's sit."

Not only is Alice a close talker, she's animated as well. Her hands fly all over the place while she speaks, diamond rings glinting off the overhead lights. She tells me how excited the members of the riding club are about the upcoming benefit. Which benefits the riding club. Because the riding club which is filled with extremely wealthy horse riding people needs to raise money. For what? New saddles for the rich riding club's members' butts? Hay for the wealthy horses?

I think she's calling her event a benefit because it sounds more prestigious as opposed to calling it what it really is: a party.

I shouldn't be judgmental, and I hate that these thoughts are running through my head. I mean honestly, it's their money and it's not as if their trying to raise funds from an outside source. Even if they were, it's none of my business. This event is a job just like any other. I must be PMSing.

"So, I was thinking," Alice says, swallowing a bite of red velvet cake, fork twirling in the air. "I know we increased the size of the benefit—you're such a doll for not letting that ruffle you at _all_, by the way—what do you think about changing the theme from what it is now…which is really a _non_-theme to a casino night? Is it too late for that? What do you think?"

"Um…"

"Sleep on it and let me know. Oh, this is…this is just…I sure could use a cold drink right about now. You? Excuse me? Yes, could we get something to drink? Orange juice if you have it."

This woman. Oh my goodness.

"I'll see what I can do about rearranging everything."

"Fantastic!" Alice claps, and leans over the table, and I can't believe she hasn't gotten any icing on her boobs. Two glasses of orange juice are placed in front of us. "Thank you," she says, then reaches down to her purse. She shakes a silver flask at me. "I'm just going to dilute this a little bit. Would you like some?"

"No, thanks."

Hypnotic Bubble Breaker Lady is insane. How the hell am I going to pull this off?

Finally, our taste testing is over. Alice decided on mini dessert shooters, and to be honest, they're perfect. I'll admit, she does have good taste.

We walk out of the bakery together, shoulder to shoulder, Listerine breath swathed in screwdrivers, and she says goodbye. I tell her I'll let her know by Tuesday if a casino theme is doable—there's a slight chance, but it means I'm going to have to have help.

Alice waves from the back of her car, and as I walk to mine, I notice the back tire is completely flat.

Of course it is. Karma chose to rear her ugly head for me being all Judgey McJudgerson. No reprieve for PMSing, I suppose. Fine. Whatever.

I first dial Mrs. Cope to let her know where I am. She hands the phone to Garrett, and I promise pizza for dinner. Then I dial the office to tell Bree I won't be coming back this afternoon. It's already after three and by the time _I_ change the tire, it'll be after five.

The bakery owner's son was nice enough to come out and help me. I can change a tire, rather I know _how_ to change a tire. But I've never actually had to do it, and I guess that much was evident.

Stefan asks me to hand him one of the lug nuts when I hear a car pull into the small lot that's in front of the bakery. I don't turn around as I'm focusing on Stefan, watching everything he does with my tire just in case this ever happens again.

Slow footsteps come up behind us. "You could have called me, you know."


	10. Speedy

Prompt: speedy

Sorry I didn't update yesterday! The day was...gross. Small note at the end.

* * *

"Oh, yeah? You've seemed kind of preoccupied lately, Edward," I say, turning to face him. He twirls his keys around his fingers, staring at the back of Stefan's head, or his back. I'm not sure what is so interesting about the back of the baker's son, but he's definitely not looking at me. _Really?_ I continue. "I didn't want to bother you, and I've, well, Stefan here has it under control, fortunately." My voice isn't unkind but it isn't jovial either.

Stefan glances my way, offering a small smile. He holds out his hand for the final lug nut, and I drop it in his grease-marked palm. "It's no problem," he says.

Edward shifts, scratches the back of his neck, quick like a mosquito bit him not casual like he does when he's thinking. His forehead scrunches, eyes squinting. He looks…uncomfortable. "I have been. Pre—never mind. I'll follow you to the repair shop so they can fix your tire. Okay?"

"You don't need to do that. It'll be fine until tomorrow."

Stefan says, "You should take it to the shop. This spare isn't in the best shape." And I just frown at him. He shrugs, and Edward gives me one of those I told you so looks.

I'm not 100 percent positive, but I have a feeling if Edward drove all the way out here, he wouldn't simply follow me to the mechanic's and then leave. He'd wait with me which would force us to talk which I'm not _50_ percent sure I even want to have a conversation with Edward right now anyway. I mean, really. What would we talk about?

But I still miss him, like I have all week. The friendship, that is. I feel like I've given up smoking. Or chocolate. Yes, chocolate—the expensive kind that's displayed in store windows that when you walk by you think no, I really shouldn't indulge but I want to. That's what Edward is to me, and I've never even had a taste.

He loads my trunk with the flat before Stefan throws in the tools. He doesn't care that the front of his white shirt has dirt all over it, or that his hands are smudged with grease. The two chat about something and they laugh. Why can't you just be a dick, Edward? It'd make things so much easier.

I need Midol.

"Let's go," Edward says, and I thank Stefan again. I tell him to let his dad know that when possible we'll send more business his way.

If Edward and I were together, I'd be angry with him for the way he's been acting. If we were only friends, I'd be angry. But I can't pout or complain or challenge him any more than what I said to him when he showed up as if he was a knight saving a damsel in distress. I have no right to do so, and it's getting harder to…wait.

As we drive to the auto shop, I think about how Edward is with _everyone_. He's friendly, outgoing…charming, but not flirty. He's funny, witty. And maybe our inside jokes or the movies and TV shows we quote or the books we both like are entirely because we happen to have similar tastes. A fluke and no more.

I think about the little things: ensuring Garrett and I were okay after the baseball game; how when Sam left me and Garrett he let my cry in his office and didn't say a word. He quietly walked out of his office and came back with a bottle of water and a box of tissues and _listened_—not an easy feat for a guy. I think about the times he said that if I ever needed anything around the house, he'd help. How he stayed at work while I was stuck there way past 5:00 because he didn't think it was safe for me to walk to my car alone.

There were other things, too, but as we pull into Speedy Auto and Tire Service's parking lot, I think how, last Friday, I got pissed off and it turned into the Days of Avoidance. _I _made him uncomfortable. _I_ was the one who thought there was a certain something between us. All this time…I read him wrong. He's married and happily so.

Edward thinks I need saving.

There's a knock on my window; I lower it. "Go ahead and park in one of the service spots. I'll meet you inside."

I'm so stupid.

And clearly, I truly am delusional.

The guy behind the counter tells me that because it's 4:30 and there are cars ahead of mine, they won't be able to fix the tire until tomorrow.

Perfect. My humiliation can slowly fester and burn inside while Edward drives me home.

I need alcohol.

* * *

A/N: Yikes. I promise you, Bella is not insane, and if you remember Ed's POV, she's not delusional either. It's hard when you can't talk to anyone about these things!

I'm working on today's prompt. If not by tonight, we'll be caught up by the end of the week. Thanks for reading!


	11. Right

Prompt: right, rite, write

unbeta'd, still. These two ran away with this chapter. Ignore any mistakes, please. :)

* * *

"Do you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?" he asks.

"No, I'll call Angie."

"Okay."

"Thanks for the rescue," I say, though my sarcasm isn't meant for him.

"Sure."

His SUV is comfy. Thick leather seats. Plenty of leg room. The ride is smooth. It smells nice, too. Clean.

I'm suffocating in here. I'm also defiling the cleanliness and faithfulness of the married man's family vehicle with my idiocy.

My ever-growing list of needs includes Midol, alcohol and now a shrink.

"Mind if I lower the window?" I ask, and he shakes his head.

Edward turns on the radio, he keeps the volume low. "I overheard Bree talking to you. That's how I knew you got a flat and where you were. You didn't ask…how I knew. So, yeah. I don't have some kind of Bella GPS app or anything. It was a coincidence."

"Oh. Well, thanks." No worries, Sir Edward. Signals, or lack thereof, coming in the forms of actions or speak will for now and evermore, be blithely disregarded.

"You said that already."

"What?"

"Thanks. You said that already. There's no need."

Of course there's not. It's your job as a white knight to ride in and save the day, isn't it? "Okay. For the record, it didn't cross my mind that you might have a Bella app on your phone. That would be inappropriate. And weird." I lean toward the open window and take a deep breath. "Besides, I believe a hell of a lot more in coincidence than I do in fate, Edward." As of five minutes ago.

McDonalds, a gas station, and a strip mall with a gazillion cars in the parking lot pass by in a familiar, on every block kind of blur. I miss my parents' place. The slow pace and the easiness and the fish and the sunsets. I could breathe there.

"What does that mean?" he asks.

"Nothing. It's been a long day."

"Oh, right. Hyp—the Whitlock account. How'd that go?" he says, politely smiling.

"She was fine. Her requests have changed a bit, but…it's fine."

"That's good. Hopefully, it won't be too much of a hassle for you."

"It'll be awesome."

"Great," he says all upbeat-like. It's annoying, and bitter on my tongue. Like spoiled chocolate, if that's how spoiled chocolate would taste. I imagine it would.

The humiliation that's been festering in my stomach has morphed into anger, bordering on rage. Fuck what I'm allowed to feel or say or how I'm supposed to stay within invisible boundaries, and before I can contain it, it all spews out of my mouth like a firestorm. "What does it matter, anyway? If it is or is not a hassle? I mean, seriously Edward. Why do you care so much? Huh? Why? I'm not some twinkie or some poor abandoned soul who's incapable of handling a little hard work. Or a lawn mower. _Or a flat tire!_ I'm a grown woman, if you weren't aware. A grown-ass-woman who can take care of herself without help from a big strong man. I got this."

Edward yanks the steering wheel to the right, slams on the breaks in the shoulder of the road. I'm thrown forward, the seatbelt cutting into my chest, then back against the seat.

"What the hell?" I shout.

"What the hell? What the _fuck_ is your problem?"

"Don't curse at me!"

His knuckles white on the wheel, he sucks an angry breath through his nose. "You have no idea what the hell you're talking about, Bella. None."

"Please, Edward. I know you think that because I'm a single mom, because my husband left me, that for whatever reason you think it's your job to…step up."

He laughs. Incredulously.

"Oh, sorry. I suppose I misinterpreted your intentions. You're just a nice guy, right? Certainly not a man with a superhero, must save the day type syndrome, yeah?"

"You're out of line."

"Who cares!" Shit. There's no going back now. I've officially lost it. Any semblance of friendship Edward and I had will never be salvaged after this.

"Be careful," he warns.

"Fuck you," I say then look out the window.

Edward bangs his hand against the steering wheel, and I glance back at him, his entire body is rigid. "Goddammit," he says, frustrated, and jumps out of the car.

My arms are crossed over my chest, my jaw is clenched so tightly I might break a tooth, and I watch him kicking dirt, his tire, pacing back and forth. He smacks his hand against the hood of his SUV. Go ahead, Edward, be mad. You deserved every word.

He walks around to my side. "Get out of the car."

"What?" I get out. "Fine. I'll walk home."

"The hell you will," he says, grabbing my arm. "Listen to me because I'm only going to say this once: I don't think you're weak or incapable of anything. You're stronger than anyone I know. I admire you, Bella. Respect you more than you could possibly imagine. And everything I've done over the past five years has been because I wanted to, no, I needed to.

"See, I have a huge problem and it's not a superhero complex. I'm not trying to save you. Everything I've done has been just so I could be around you." Edward pauses, letting go of my arm. "I can't touch you, Bella Swan. I can't have you the way I want."

"Wh—"

"Don't."

This is bad.

I climb back into his SUV. "Take me home, Edward."

* * *

a/n: Nothing is easy. Thank you, as always, for reading.


	12. Tepid

Prompt: tepid

Scenario: All's fair in love and war...or so it's said. Tell us a story of how far someone would go to secure the affections of the one they love. (yes, that really is part of today's prompt. weird!)

* * *

The drive home is quiet, to say the least.

I've kept the window down, my hands folded in my lap, stared out of it not really seeing anything at all. Edward has no idea how I feel about him yet he said those things anyway. He said them knowingly and honestly and he's either very brave or very stupid.

I've known Edward for a long time, and he's far from stupid.

I wonder what he's thinking. I'm too afraid to look at him to find out. What does he want from me?

This changes everything.

He pulls up to the curb in front of my house, puts the car in park but leaves the engine running, like he's saying, _"I'll sit here for a little while, but I can't stay."_

I shake my head, open the door and climb out. "Goodbye, Edward."

"Bella, wait," he says, turning off the ignition then jumps out. He runs up to me, grabs my hand, squeezes and runs his thumb along the top of it, and it feels too good. I want to squeeze back, but I can't. I want to let him hold my hand forever, but it's not fair. His mouth opens and closes in this silent stutter, and I wait and wait and wait for him to say _something_. But he doesn't.

And then with the hand he's not holding, I slap him.

"I love you, too," I tell him because I do. The slap, however, was unintentional.

I know he understands that I'm not challenging him. I am simply following him off that ledge because I don't want him to think for a second that he's jumped into darkness by himself. My palm stings almost as badly as my heart as I look up at his stunned face.

This is the part where some people might kiss. But we're not some people, so I let go of his hand, turn, and walk into my house.

* * *

"Mom!" Garrett yells. He's on the floor in front of the television, homework spread out across the table. "Guess what!"

All the adrenaline that's been coursing through my body vanishes, leaving me shaking. "What, sweetheart?" My voice is high, trembling, and if this weight on my chest doesn't lessen in the next five seconds, I'm going to scream.

"Are you all right?" Mrs. Cope asks. "Bella, you're pale. Are you ill?" I shake my head.

"Dad called!" _Perfect._ "He's flying in tomorrow and wants to take us to lunch!" _No, no, no_. "I tried to call your phone, but it kept ringing." _Dammit_. "Why didn't you answer, Mom? So, can we go to lunch with Dad?"

"Stop, Garrett." Raising my hand, I say, "Slow down, for a minute, buddy. I need a second." Mrs. Cope begins to intervene, offering to have Garrett help with the start of dinner. I don't know what I'd do without her. "No, it's okay, Shelly. I promised we'd order pizza."

Garrett needs me more right now than I need time to recoup, or wallow—I can do that later, with an extra-large glass of white after he's in bed.

"Do you want me to stay for a bit?" she asks, and I nod. Shelly Cope has big shoulders and I could stand to borrow them right about now.

"Garrett, go ahead and get on the computer to order the pizza, and then you can tell me what your dad said. No mushrooms this time. Shelly? Do you want anything special on yours? Garrett likes sausage and all the veggies."

"I'm easy. Whatever works for me, Bella," she says, dismissively waving her hand.

I can hear Garrett's fingers madly clicking away, and I'm positive he's not paying any attention to what he's ordering just so he can hurry up and tell me about his conversation with Sam. But that's all right because it's giving me a second to breathe.

I haven't had to deal with this for a while. About a year, I think. This is what Sam does: he'll call sporadically, when he happens to be flying into town from this city or another. He'll make plans and either cancel at the last minute or change them so that he spends a couple of hours with Garrett instead of a full weekend like he'd promised, claiming that his passengers are counting on him to get them where they need to be.

Garrett has a drawer full of plastic wings. His own collection of consolation prizes for being the son of an asshole commercial pilot.

I'm sitting on the couch, and tell Garrett to check the Cash button for payment. Shelly comes out of the kitchen, hands me a glass of wine then takes a seat across from me.

_Okay, I'll start early._

It's strange seeing her so comfortable in my home, but I'm glad she is. She's not married, a widow for quite some time, but the woman is still active. I know this because she tried to get me to set up a profile. I politely declined.

Felix hops up on my lap, like he's just now noticed I'm home. He purrs, clearly over the trip to my parents' place last week, and stretches his neck for me to pet him, and then Garrett starts in about the phone call from his dad.

He's more excited than he should be. I smile, listening, try not to be too encouraging, but I'm afraid this act of mine comes across more tepid than enthused. My heart breaks.

"I'll give him a call and see what his plans are. Let's take it easy—he might only be able to stop in for a short time," I say, and Garrett is, for the most part, content.

I swear to God if Sam disappoints my son again, I will kill him.

The pizza arrives, weighing a ton, and by the looks of it, Garrett clicked every topping but mushroom.

I've finally gotten Garrett settled into bed, even though he complained that it's Friday night and he should be able to stay up later. "Mom, come on," he said. "At least til ten." "Sorry, G, nine is the limit." He said, "Sit with me for a while." I did, and he fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

"I'm all ears, Bella," Shelly says. She's on her second glass, and I've refilled mine. "What happened today? Before the Devil called."

Shelly speaks her mind, too.

"He's not the Devil. Not totally, anyway." I laugh, for the first time today. "It's a long story," I warn. "We could be here a while."

"I've got no where to be."

"No judging?"

"None whatsoever," she assures me.

I take a huge gulp of wine, curl my feet under me and let it flow. "I'm in love with this guy…his name's Edward Cullen…"

* * *

Tomorrow's update will at least move this story along another day. I think it's been 3 chapters for Friday? :)

Thank you all so very much for reading and reviewing.


	13. Zero

Prompt: zero

* * *

Garrett has his palms pressed against the table, a too big glass of pink lemonade between them. He's standing, leaning over his lemonade, bracing himself on the table, just sucking away on the straw.

"Slow down," I tell him. He lifts his eyes to me. He doesn't stop drinking.

My conversation with Sam went something like this:

"Sam."

"Hey, Bella. How've you been?"

"I heard you called? You're going to be around tomorrow, apparently?"

"Yeah, I am! Did Garrett tell you I want to take him to lunch? And you too, if you want."

"How long are you in town for?"

"A couple days. I just flew in from Vegas and have to head right back out on Monday."

"Mmhm."

"I'll pick up Garrett around noon?"

"I don't think so. I'll bring him to the restaurant," I said, not _entirely_ meaning to be so curt.

"Sure, that'll be fine. Where does he like to eat?"

"Red Robin."

"Yeah, I know it. We have 'em here in Vegas. All right. I'll see you tomorrow. At noon, right?"

"Do you know which one? We have three."

"No, Bella, now that you mention it, I _don't_ know which one. Why don't you tell me so I don't show up at the wrong restaurant."

"Neither of us has heard a word from you in over six months, Sam. I don't think you have any rights to dick behavior. Are you going to show up this time?"

He was aghast.

"It's a valid question," I said.

Then he was quiet.

"I'll be there. Where is it?"

I told him the street. I said that if he breaks Garrett's heart again I'll be sure he'll never be able to do it again. Garrett heard me.

Garrett is slurping up the last of the lemonade, loudly and very much on purpose.

"Was it good?"

"It was all right," he says and flops back in the wooden booth.

He burps, doesn't even try to cover it up. I look away, pretending that we don't have any rules against all forms of bodily expulsions of air in public. Garrett is angry with me because I wasn't nice to Sam. Well.

Our server swings by our table again; I ask him to come back in a few minutes.

"My dad is coming," Garrett announces, and the server smiles, nods, walks to another table.

"What are you going to get, Professor?"

"I dunno." He glances down at the watch I bought him last week.

"Should I call him? Maybe traffic's keeping him?"

"I don't care," Garrett says. "He's probably nervous."

_Ohhh, low blow, buddy.  
_  
"I'm sure he's not." Garrett shrugs, absently patting the backpack he brought. "Are you going to tell me what's in there?" I ask, nodding to the backpack.

"Dad!" Garrett jumps out of the booth and right into Sam's arms.

Part of me wishes Sam didn't show.

As soon as Sam slides into the booth next to Garrett, our server is back. Garrett suddenly knows exactly what he wants: burger with swiss, zero pickles, cooked with no pink in the middle, fries, and after being goaded by his father, a chocolate shake. Garrett's not a big milkshake drinker.

"You look good, Bella," Sam says.

"Thanks. So do you." He does look fantastic for someone being so busy flitting from one city to another. He's tan, built, hair perfectly coiffed, teeth freshly whitened. "George Hamilton better watch out."

Sam covertly glowers at me then turns his attention to Garrett. The two start in on what's been going on with Garrett: school, friends, everything that's happened to him in the past two years—even though it hasn't been that long since they've seen each other. I'm guessing that Garrett wants to make sure Sam doesn't miss a thing. Garrett's mood is exponentially brighter and he opens up his backpack.

Inside is a scrapbook he's made of all the things he wants his father to know about him. Stuck to the pages are pictures of him playing soccer, him at a Lego League tournament, his favorite foods. There's one of Felix, another of his best friend, Kate, from school, and a close-up of the wolf he made for his diorama.

"Did you help him with this?" Sam asks.

"No. Did Mrs. Cope help you?"

"I did it by myself, Mom." I ask him for how long he's been putting it together. "I don't know. For a while. Look, Dad. I used double-sided tape so the pictures didn't get bubbly. Sometimes the color fades from the glue. Did you know that?"

"I didn't know that, Son. How'd you get to be so smart?"

I excuse myself to go to the bathroom.

Leaning against the sink, I have a horrible urge to text Edward. This is one of those things I'd tell him all about at work. He'd talk me down and we'd make jokes, as wrong as it would be, at Sam's expense. Sometimes being vindictive for five seconds makes everything easier. I haven't spoken to him since yesterday, not that I expected I would, but…

We both have some things to figure out. All in due time, right?

Instead, I call Shelly. _My new best friend is a 58 year old widow who's dated more men in the past year than I have in my entire life_. She asks if the Devil has taken any souls. I tell her no. She tells me to breathe. I tell her I'll call her later.

When I get back to the table our food has arrived. Garrett, not Sam, waits for me to sit down before he dives into his burger. Operation Be Mad At Mom has been abandoned.

Garrett nudges Sam. "Um, Garrett and I were wondering if it would be all right if we hung out today. Maybe go see a movie?"

I hate it when he does this. Showing up out of the blue and making plans with Garrett without talking to me first. I look at Garrett. "Is that what you want to do? Yeah? Okay, have him home by seven."

We finish lunch and walk toward the exit. At Sam's rental, I lean down to kiss Garrett on the cheek. (I make a mental note that I don't care he's only 10, I'm going to buy him a cell phone on my way home.)

"Don't forget this," I say to Sam, handing him the scrapbook.

"Do you mind hanging on to it? I'll pick it up when I drop off Garrett."

_No, you won't._ "Sure."

* * *

At Target, I'm reading the features of the pay-as-you-go phones. They're easy to use, cheap, and Garrett will be bored with the simplicity of them. He'll also think I think he's a baby. I choose a phone similar to mine.

I'm waiting for a cashier to show up, and behind me, store ads and television trailers loop on flat screens which blare in this weird echo.

I wonder what Garrett and Sam are doing. If Garrett is having a good time. If he's uncomfortable. If he feels the need to impress his dad. Glancing at my phone, I check the time. 5 hours. Why did I say to have him home by 7?

Still no cashier. I search the counter for that black button you're supposed to press when there are no associates in the area, and just as I find it a red-shirted kid appears out of nowhere, and I'm glad. I always feel like I'm going to get someone into trouble if I press that stupid button. The kid apologizes, rings up the phone and says his little sister has the same model.

I sign the receipt, thinking how long the next five hours are going to drag, and when I look up to exchange the receipt for the phone, there's Edward. He's across the aisle watching me. He looks tired. His clothes are rumpled right along with that mess of hair he has. He's behind a shopping cart full of plastic tubs, and then Leah is next to him.

* * *

Well now. Edward POV for the next one. In fact, each of the remaining Saturdays this month will be in EPOV. BUT, this weekend is pretty busy, so it might not be until Sunday until the next chapter is posted.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing. Also, obsmama - thanks for the rec. :D xo


	14. Relinquish

Prompt: Relinquish

Thanks for being patient! Also, I know nothing about cars, but Kman (my pal, sncmom's son) has opinions and I hope he gets his dream one day.

It's close to 2am and we're unbeta'd, as usual, so prepare for many a typo.

This is EPOV and it picks up on Friday afternoon.

* * *

I was 15 when I borrowed my dad's '67 Mustang Shelby. Black on black with dark gray stripes, mint condition—the epitome of the American muscle car. She was a dream. People turned their heads when you drove down the street in the Shelby.

Sunday mornings were reserved for detailing her inside and out, though she never really needed it. But I still liked to help. My dad was committed to and infatuated with her. He treated her like she was a living and breathing thing. I just thought the car was fly.

I was 15. I said _fly_, a lot.

"Can I drive it?" I asked.

"Not yet. You don't have your license," Dad said.

"So what? You can teach me. Let's go to an empty parking lot," I said, trying so hard to sound like it was no big deal. Damn, I wanted to wrap my hands around that wheel.

My dad dropped his sheepskin mitt in the bucket and eyed me from over the Shelby's hood. "All right. Soon as we're finished here, we'll go." Just like that.

I was so gentle with her, didn't go above 20mph but that was mostly because I wanted to prove to my dad I could handle her and maybe if I showed him I was responsible, he'd let me take her out own my own. My dad and I hit that parking lot three or four more times, then the side streets, and then a major road.

I knew what I was doing.

That summer, Alec, Paul, and I decided to take the Shelby out for a drive while my mom and dad were at work. It took maybe an hour of convincing before I gave in. So the three of us drove by Dairy Queen, the pool, Jessica Stanley's house, anywhere we'd be seen and surely talked about until school started again in the fall.

It worked, and as an added bonus I made out with Jessica Stanley and got to squeeze her boob.

My dad and I took the Shelby to get my license when I turned 16. He even trusted me enough to drive it without him a few times. My dad never knew I took the car, and I never told him. An archetypal act of a teenager for sure, but the point is he trusted me and I betrayed him. Twenty years later, I still feel like shit about it.

All of last week I tried to stay away from her, get on with the routine at work, at home, but in the end, I couldn't. Holding onto Bella's hand for those brief seconds before she slapped me was a hundred times more amazing than that afternoon in the Mustang. I didn't think, I just…did. But Bella's not a car and Leah is not my dad and I'm not 15 anymore. The feeling of deceit, however, is exactly the same.

On the way to Bella's house from the auto shop she really pissed me off. Thinking I felt sorry for her, that she needed to be saved. Bullshit. She kept pushing and pushing and she was sitting there, so close, her face red with anger, her hair messy from the wind, and it was all I could do not to reach across and kiss her. So I got out of my truck and then I told her and it was with what little restraint I had left that I didn't tell her that I am in love with her.

But I didn't have to because she said she loves me _too_.

I've been driving around for a while. I texted Leah and told her I was working late, and then I didn't answer when she called. That was about three hours ago and she's since called as many times. I can't face her or talk to her until I figure this out.

My cell buzzes again. Emmett.

"Yeah."

"Dude, what's going on? Leah just called me. You two okay?"

"What'd she say?"

"You sound like shit. Where are you?"

I'm in Fairfax. "I don't know, just driving."

"Meet me at Dogfish in twenty minutes."

"Not tonight, Em."

"Come on, man. What gives? Leah's all upset you're not calling her back and I don't want to sit on the phone with your wife being dragged into the middle of whatever the hell is going on with the two of you. Either call her back or meet me at Dogfish. But dude, call her back so she doesn't call _me_ again."

* * *

Emmett lets out a low whistle after I tell him everything. Because it's Friday, the bar is crowded and loud. It's the last place I want to be right now, but Emmett is a good friend and he'll be straight with me.

"You never had sex with her," he says.

"_No!"_

"Nothing. Not even a kiss."

"No, Emmett."

"What about Leah? You love her, right?"

"Of course I do. I married her, didn't I?"

"Hey, Lauren was married to me, but that didn't stop her from sleeping with that guy," he says then finishes his beer. He holds up two fingers to the bartender. A tall blond walks past us, smiles at Emmett. He winks back, watching her until she disappears. The divorce was hard on him—he loved Lauren like crazy, even took her back after she cheated the first time. But she did it again, and it crushed him.

"I'm not going to cheat on Leah," I say.

"But you're in love with this other girl…"

"Yeah."

"What are you going to do, E? Can't have 'em both."

"I don't know."

"Well," he says, spinning around on the barstool. He leans his elbows back against the bar and surveys the women who are clearly single. "The way I see it, someone is going to get hurt. Two if I count you. No way to get around it." He spins back around. "Look, you've got to make a choice. You can't lead Leah on if you want someone else. She's a nice girl, and I like her. I really do, but if she's not the right girl you gotta be honest about it. _But_ how do you know this other girl is worth breaking up your marriage over? Is she? She could turn out to be a total psycho." He's joking, but I'm not much in the mood to laugh.

"She's not."

"Take some time to figure it out," he says. "And if things don't work out with Leah because you chose…what's her name?"

"Bella."

"Okay. If it's Bella you want, let me know if you need a place to crash because you know Leah won't waste any time kicking your ass to the curb."

That same blond from earlier walks back from the other side of the bar. Emmett stops her, gives her his number then whispers something in her ear.

"Jesus, Em."

"A man is not an island, my friend."

* * *

"Edward, wake up." Leah pushes my arm. "Come on, babe. It's almost noon."

I got in around one this morning and instead of waking up Leah, I slept on the couch.

Jack nudges my face with his nose. "Shit. Sorry. Did you take them out already?"

"No, I'm letting them suffer. Yes, I walked them, silly. And did a load of laundry, and washed the dishes. I swear you could sleep through an earthquake."

She's especially cheerful this morning. Not that she's normally unhappy, but something's going on.

I rub my eyes and sit up. "I'm going to hop in the shower."

"Okay, well, hurry up because I want to run to Target before it gets too crowded."

"For what?"

"We're going through the garage today, remember? Organizing and tossing all the stuff we've hung on to since childhood? God, why don't you ever remember anything? Anyway, we need some plastic tubs."

"Okay."

* * *

I hate this store. Especially on Saturdays. Or maybe I'm just in a really bad mood which is probably why I didn't bother to put on a shirt devoid of wrinkles.

I watch my wife throw stuff into our cart that she suddenly needs. I don't care, but she does it with such fervor; I don't understand the excitement over moisturizer.

"I thought we were getting plastic tubs."

"We are, grump, but I need some other things, too." She kisses my cheek. I smile and she walks off to another aisle while I trail behind.

"Why are you in such a good mood?" I ask.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, you seem…_perky_."

"Perky?" She laughs, looking at me over her shoulder. Leah turns around and takes a deep breath. "This is not where I wanted to tell you," she says. _Oh no._ "And if you'd have called me back instead of texting to tell me you went out with Emmett, I would have told you then, but…" _Shit, shit, shit. Don't say you're pregnant. We haven't had sex in almost two weeks. Shit._ "The bank is opening a new branch and they want me to be part of the start-up team!" She practically squeals, earning a few curious glances from passersby.

_Oh, thank god_. "That's fantastic, Leah."

"I know! Isn't it great!"

"Yeah, congratulations. Where?"

"That's the best part. _New York_. Edward, we can finally get out of this place."

"What's wrong with here?" I don't want to move. I like it here. It's where I grew up. Everything I know is _here_. I think about Bella.

"Nothing if you're into suburbia. I thought you'd be happy. I mean, how long do you want to stay where you are? Don't you want to move up in your career and get into hotel management like you intended forever ago?"

"I like where I am, Leah"

She sighs and continues walking. "We can talk more about it at home." She sounds defeated, and I know I should be more supportive and _not_ think about Bella.

Conceding, I say, "You're right, I'm sorry. We'll talk at home."

We finally get to the storage section of the store, deliberate on container colors until compromising on dark green. Compromising like married couples should do.

New York could change everything. It _would_ change everything. For the better? I don't know, maybe.

I watch Leah through my periphery as we walk toward the back of the store to pick up dog food. She's thinking, smiling a little, and surely dreaming about what it would be like to live in the city. I'm proud of her. She's worked really hard and she deserves this.

I don't know. Maybe it's a sign.

"Oh! I'll be right back. Stay here and…watch TV. I forgot to get a shower liner for the guest bathroom."

"I'll come."

"No, it's fine. Gimme two seconds."

"All right." I lean my forearms against the handle of the cart and stare at the flat screens.

They used to show actual _shows_ on the models and now it's all commercials that repeat over and over and over. How will anyone get suckered into buying one if they're not zombified by the size of the TV? Having to watch Target commercials while you're _in_ Target is stupid. They need a new sales technique. Maybe I can work for a Target in New York.

Exciting.

I don't even know why I'm thinking about this. The thought of moving is…

Bella.

I look toward the ceiling and to whatever might be beyond the fluorescents and tiles, I say, "Seriously?"

What is she doing here? My heart claws its way to my throat and settles there. I stand straight, my feet cemented to the floor, and I quickly look toward the direction to where Leah went, too afraid she's going to come back and see Bella. She'll want to say hello and that would be cruel, for both of them.

But there's not sign of Leah, so I watch Bella as she waits for a cashier, and my palms begin to sweat. It's not from nerves, either. She looks completely different to me now. She is different because she loves me. _Fuck,_ I'm so fucked.

She's looking around the counter, but someone finally arrives to help her. I watch her talk to the kid, pay for whatever she's buying—probably something for Garrett—and then she sees me. She's as surprised as I am, and I can't look away or even acknowledge her like a sane person.

"Okay, let's go," says Leah, and I'm snapped right back into the present.

That's what happens. Bella's like a dream and Leah's like reality.

* * *

Two weeks. That's when they want Leah to start at the new branch. It's Monday and she accepted the job this morning. We talked the entire weekend. It wasn't entirely pleasant, but we made progress and came to an agreement.

I'm going to stay here, for now, because I'm not ready to relinquish anything.


	15. Cap

Prompt: cap

Your reviews have been so insightful, and honest! Thank you! No one is perfect, especially Edward, but he's trying to do the right thing, at least in his mind.

Back to BPOV

* * *

"Bella, dear!" She says as if this isn't the seventieth time she's called in the past two days.

"Hello, again Mrs. Whitlock. Did you need something else?"

"No, no. Well, yes." She titters. Doesn't laugh, oh no, Alice Whitlock is a titterer all the way. She's probably demurely covering her mouth with the tips of her fingers, too. The thought makes me smile; she's beginning to grow on me. "You see, and I wasn't made aware of this up until a few moments ago, but we simply cannot have a casino themed benefit."

There's no way to mask my concern. "Mrs. Whitlock—"

"Alice."

"Alice. I've already put a request in for invitations, which at this point we'll be lucky to have by Friday and that will give your guests less than a week to respond. A day if they go by mail. The benefit is in twelve days and the caterers need final numbers," I now say as gently and cautiously as I can muster, remembering that while Alice is insane she is my client. "May I ask why you no longer want to go with a casino theme?"

"Oh, Bella. I'm such a simpleton. Mr. Whitlock reminded me that his cousin has a gambling problem." She whispers that last part. "And it would be insensitive to expect her to enjoy herself while surrounded by temptation. Poor old girl just can't help herself. I…I don't know what I was thinking. Is there any way at all you can still make my benefit fabulous?"

"No other changes? Golf beforehand, silent auction after dinner, music, dancing?"

"Yes. All of that stays." She sighs heavily through the phone. "What are we going to do?" she cries, ice clinking against glass in the background. "People are expecting something wonderful, Bella!"

I rub circles around my temple, conceding to the loss of sleep over the next twelve days. "What do you have in mind?"

* * *

At 3:00 I call Garrett on his new cell, which he loves. He's home from school most likely stuffing his face with the banana bread Shelly brought over yesterday before doing homework so that he can go out to dinner with his dad.

On Saturday, Sam brought Garrett home by 7, just like I asked. He forgot the scrapbook, not surprising, but came back for it. Very surprising. I don't know what transpired between him and Garrett, but something clicked inside Sam. I could see it in his face; that plastic expression of his softened even if by a little bit. Sam switched flights with another pilot so he could spend an extra couple of days here with Garrett, something he's never done.

I tell Garrett I love him, ask him about his day and that I'm working late but will be home before he will. He says he loves me back and he'll bring a dessert home for me.

The Professor is _so_ happy, and I'm glad, I really am because he _deserves_ to be. But I'm still waiting for the moment Sam messes up again.

* * *

Angie's leg is curled underneath her, the other bouncing while we brainstorm. Alice wants something fun that will be talked about forever. She said this benefit should set an _unreachable_ bar for all future riding club parties. Because, you know, I have time to put something spectacular together.

I put a cap on her expectations. A risky move considering the amount of money this job is bringing in, but it's my name and if the party falls flat because I couldn't pull it off I don't want to spend however long it will take to build up my reputation again. Luckily, Alice can be flexible.

"Circus," Angie says.

"What? No."

"She wants fun."

"I know."

"Circuses are fun."

"Twelve days," I remind her.

"Okay. Hm. Why doesn't she want to incorporate the riding aspect at all? It would make sense."

"Yeah, it would but Alice thinks that would be too boring."

Angie scoops her hair into a ponytail then pushes her glasses up to rest atop her head. "She needs to approve by 5:00?"

"Yep. That gives us an hour. Oh, man, Angie. This is going to be a disaster."

"Have a little faith. We're smart, resourceful women."

I smirk. "Sure, we are. Okay, let's think." Everything is just so _lame_. The casino idea was lame too, but at least it _was_ an idea. And doable.

A cup of coffee and a bag of peanuts later, I start thinking about Angie's circus suggestion. "What about the circus, Ang?"

"I said that."

"No, I know. I mean, not one that'd be for kids, right? Something sophisticated and mysterious."

"Right…oooh! Like Cirque du Soleil?"

"Yes, exactly!"

I call Alice and she loves it. Angie and I shoot ideas back and forth and hop on the phone to secure performers then I touch base with the venue about their _decorating_ restrictions. My office is utter chaos.

Unfortunately, there aren't many acrobats or fire breathers in the Washington D.C. metropolitan area to choose from, so I call Alice to approve an increase—the best performers aren't cheap. She says, "Of course, Bella, dear! Whatever it takes!"

"It's a go," I say. "Mrs. Alice Whitlock is willing to shell out a Mint if she has to."

"Hypnotic Bubble Breaker Lady?" Edward asks, poking his head around the door, and my stomach drops. "Hey, Ang. Bella, can I talk to you for a sec?"

I look to Angie for help. But she has no idea, obviously, and stands to leave.

"We're super busy, Edward. Can it wait?"

"Not really," he says.

I haven't spoken to Edward other than an awkwardly brief hello this morning. What, with all the time spent on the phone with Alice over the past two days? Regardless, I wasn't planning to seek him out anyway. I just couldn't, especially after Saturday's fiasco. It was awful. I slipped through the aisles for fear of being seen by Leah, like I was some sort of villain.

I hate this.

I want him to quit this job and get out of my life. I want him to be with _me_.

"Sure," I say and Angie scoots out of my office.

Edward shuts the door. "Hi."

"Hi."

"You okay?" he asks, sitting in the chair Angie has just vacated, and I nod. "Your hands are shaking."

I look down, and they are. "So it seems." I shove them under my thighs. "What did you want to talk about?"

He shifts, his eyes focusing on something on the floor as he picks at his thumb nail. "I'm guessing you wouldn't want to go for a walk, would you?"

"I don't think that'd be a good idea."

"Yeah, me either. It's just this really isn't a appropriate place."

I laugh. "Nothing is appropriate in this situation, Edward. What is it?"

"Straight to the point. Okay, ah, Leah accepted a job in New York."

Sitting as still as I can, my hands fist beneath my thighs and I stare down at them, holding back tears. He's leaving. "Huh. Did you give Carmen your notice yet?" My voice cracks.

"No."

"Why not?"

He rolls his chair toward mine and lightly, so very lightly he touches my knees. "Because I can't."

* * *

a/n Hang in there...


	16. Hose

Prompt: hose

sncmom, thanks for holding my hand!

* * *

"You can't, or you won't?" I ask. He's right there, just inches away looking back at me with such intensity that it is us and only us in an impenetrable moment that I will keep forever alongside that shiny penny still shoved in my pocket from three years ago. And just for a second I'm going to allow myself to be stupid and selfish and be in this moment fully and completely.

Edward tilts his head a little, and I notice the dark circles under his eyes. "Both," he replies. After he regards me a second longer, the moment quickly fading, he says, "I'm going to ask you to trust me. I don't know if I can ask you to do this but I am. So please, trust me when I tell you whatever whispers you might but probably will hear around the Keurig or imminent fluctuations in my mood, know it has nothing to do with you."

"What are you saying, Edward?"

He glances down at my knees then moves his chair back so there is only the slightest distance more between us. "I'm saying that I need to unravel a few knots."

With that he stands, pushes the chair back against the wall, opens the door and turns back to me. "I'll talk to you soon, Bella."

* * *

I've learned to compartmentalize my life which is—probably more of an innate physiological unchoice than it is an actual choice—a mere three compartments: Garrett, My Job, and Edward. Even though Edward and My Job are kinda, sorta, but not really one in the same, they're most definitely separate.

Except recently.

I'm also a very, very curious person and have yet to hear a word about what is going on with Edward. Believe me, I've listened. I know it has to do with him and Leah. I also know that because she is going to New York and he is not that I can only assume they will not be together, but assuming that particular outcome makes me sick to my stomach because it _does_ have something to do with me. If only one one hundredth of a percent, it does, and that makes me feel like shit.

No matter how divided I try to keep these things from the other, Edward is pouring into the My Job box causing distractions that could potentially affect the Whitlock event, and that _cannot_ happen. So I'm resigned to focus on My Job and temporarily lock up the Edward compartment.

Garrett, however, being the largest one of them all remains unaffected. That is, of course, while he's awake.

My mind spins so much it's been hard to fall asleep these past few nights.

"God, Bella. You look like hell," Rose says.

"Thanks, so much, Rose. Really, thanks."

"Almost as bad as Edward. Have you seen him lately?" she asks, peering down the hall toward his office. She's holding a Styrofoam cup with both hands, steam spiraling up out of it. I need caffeine.

"No. Why?" I follow her gaze. His door's closed. _Just like his box_.

"He's been in a craptastic mood, pawning off bits of his accounts to Intern Eric…who you know is all up Edward's ass anyway. I heard he's been taking extra-long lunch breaks, too. Didn't you notice his absence from Reuben Wednesday? Oh, never mind. You missed it too."

"Are you mad? Because I'm detecting subtle notes of sarcasm. You know I've got the party coming up."

She waves it off. "I could use the Intern to do some of my dirty work with the Black wedding _that's happening in a few months_."

"Delegate."

"I've _tried_," she says, her eyes frustratingly wide. "But he keeps saying, 'Sorry, Miss Hale. I'm bogged down with a few things Mr. Cullen needs me to do immediately.' I mean, come on! Someone should hose that boy down. What else does Edward have going on that's so important anyway?"

"No idea."

"You lie. You two are like two peas in a pod around here."

"Pfft. No we're not."

"Yes, you are," she says matter-of-factly, like she's surprised I don't already realize this. This is weird. And slightly painful because I've yet had to outright lie or cover up anything regarding me and Edward. Because there hasn't been anything to cover up until the whole him telling me he wants me and me telling him that I love him. "Spill. What's going on?"

"I swear, Rose. I don't know a thing." And I don't.

Her shoulders droop and she leans back against the wall. "Things are changing," she says. "It's different around here. Haven't you noticed? We always went out to lunch together: you, me, Angie, and Edward. It feels like forever since we've been." Rose looks back toward Edward's office then at me. "You don't think he's looking for another job, do you?" she whispers.

"Why would you think that?" That could be it, couldn't it? He could be staying _and_ quitting.

"What else would it be?' she asks. "I'm totally going to kick his ass if that's what this is all about and he hasn't said anything to any of us."

Edward warned there would be gossip, but I never expected I'd be pulled into it. Okay, maybe a little.

"It could be anything. Don't worry about it. Everyone can have a bad day once in a while."

"Four in a row?"

I shrug and tell her I need to get back to work. I do _not_ think about Edward and the many possibilities of what's going on behind his door for the rest of the day.

Mrs. Whitlock now has the number to my cell. A pacification to avoid all future freak outs should she not be able to reach me with what would be a highly important question or statement such as, "Spring Rolls, Bella! We must have them!" We've also come to an understanding that only texts are acceptable after 6:00 p.m. and before 10:00 p.m. This after she'd called _at 11:00 at night!_ wanting to add another donation to the auction.

With Edward locked in his respective box and Mrs. Whitlock in hers, I'm going to go home to my son and think about nothing other than him.

* * *

Thanks for reading. See you tomorrow (later today).


	17. Toss

Prompt(s): Toss, moss, loss

We're a day behind in prompts. Currently working on the next one. :)

* * *

It's two days before the Whitlock benefit. I'm meeting her at the venue in a few hours to go over some last minute details with the manager, and even though Alice doesn't need to be there, she's asked to tag along. She seems to like to be involved which has been… entertaining. Alice still owns her nickname, but I've gotten used to her close-talkingness, like how a tree gets used to moss.

I'm staying home this morning since the hall is in the opposite direction of work, and I've been so busy with preparations my house kind of looks like a cyclone swept through—domestic goddess, I am not. _But_, western omelets are being flipped, bacon is sizzling, fruit has been sliced, and oranges have been squeezed for breakfast for Garrett and me.

It's really not as gourmet-esque as it sounds. The omelets are in pieces because I can never flip them just so. There's pulp and a few seeds in the juice, and the bacon is, well the crispier the better. Garrett is upstairs getting dressed for school. He's been moping around the house for the past few days and won't tell me what's wrong. It's not his dad, thank goodness, but it's something. So, I'm making a bigger than usual breakfast to spend a few more minutes with him, hoping to draw out whatever it is that's going on.

I can hear him walking, then jogging, then quickly walking above me from my bathroom to his room. "Garrett?" I yell over my shoulder. "Whatcha doing up there? Breakfast is ready." He has his own bathroom, so I'm not sure why he keeps going back and forth to mine.

"I'm coming!"

I plate the omelet pieces and bacon and carry them over to the table. "All right. Hurry up before it gets cold." Eggs really do have a remarkably fast hot to cold drop in temperature thing going on. It's odd and annoying.

"I'm here," he says at the bottom of the steps.

"_Wow_. Don't you look nice today."

"Thanks." His mouth moves into an uncertain, tight-lipped smile and he walks stiffly, as though he might wrinkle his khakis and blue button-down on the way to the table. He even has gel in his hair, not a lot but enough to make it spike up in a non-purposeful, non-style. But my son has never used gel—aside from a Halloween costume or two. And because we are not going to a wedding, church, graduation, or any other function that would require a 10-year-old boy to even want to properly comb his hair and add product to it, I have the distinct feeling I now know what has been going on with him.

My baby has a crush, and that thought is both adorable and unsettling.

"Anything special going on at school today?"

He shrugs. "No, not really. Mom, does this have onions in it?"

"Yes."

"I can't eat it."

"Why?"

"Onions smell."

"So brush your teeth after," I say, trying really hard not to smile.

He sighs. "That doesn't work. The onion juice settles in your stomach and then it floats up out of your esophagus all day until it's digested."

"Really? That's interesting. Did you just learn this? You never cared before when you've eaten them."

"I don't know," he says, picking out the bits of onion in his omelet.

"Do you want me to make you another one?"

"No, it's okay." Garrett puts down his fork. "I'm not that hungry anyway." He sips his juice then crinkles his forehead.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Again I ask what's bothering him, he assures me it's nothing, but I've got to get it out him. He looks so nervous and unsure, not the confident, happy-go-lucky boy that he is. But I don't want to push him either, or at least not make it obvious.

This horrible image pops into my head where the recipient of Garrett's affections—her face is kind of blurry in this scenario but she has blond braids and is wearing a really cute ruffled orange top and pristinely white sneakers. I have no idea why, but that's what she's wearing. Anyway, blurry face laughs at him after he's told her that he likes her then goes off and tells her friends and they laugh, too. Garrett's teased during recess. Picked on during lunch. They don't let him live it down, lasting throughout elementary school, into middle school. Maybe even high school.

"Let's stay home," I say, surprising us both.

"Why?"

But then blurry face could turn out to be a nice girl. I mean, who wouldn't want to be the recipient of The Professor's affections? They'd be crazy.

"Never mind," I say. "Are you sure there's nothing at all you want to tell me?"

Garrett snaps his bacon in half and stares at the two pieces. "Well, maybe later," he says. "Will you drive me to school?"

"Of course! Eat some fruit before we go."

The entire ride Garrett is quiet and stares out the window. We pull up in front of his school and after he hops out, his backpack hanging loosely from his hand, I roll down the passenger window and lean across the console. "Hey. You're going to be great. No matter what just be yourself, okay?"

"Okay," he says, a little confused. He glances to his left and freezes, and I look too.

Garrett's best friend, Kate, is saying goodbye to her mother. She catches Garrett staring at her and she barely waves, smiling, before scurrying off toward the entrance of the school. Garrett watches her the entire way in and then, like he's remembered that I'm still here, he quickly turns back around.

"Kate's a lucky girl," I say.

His cheeks pink up, but then he smiles and heads into school. I take my phone out of my purse, snap a picture of Garrett, and toss it onto the passenger seat.

As I pull away from the curb, I reach over and pick my phone up again, wondering if Sam might have known that Garrett likes a girl. If because of some guy code or newly formed fatherly bond he's formed with Garrett is the reason why Sam didn't mention anything to me. And that's okay, I think. But on the other hand, if Garrett didn't say anything to his dad, I have this urge to tell him whereas before it would never have crossed my mind.

An hour after I left a message on Sam's phone, he called back. As it turns out, he had no idea, and thanked me for keeping him in the loop. I said you're welcome, the conversation very formal in a progressive sort of way. And then he said the trip into town he was scheduled to fly next month was canceled. I huffed, said something like he was unbelievable and then he said "Hold on a minute, Bella." Said that he's trying, he really is and had swapped with another pilot to come in two weeks from now.

Slowly, I guess, we're getting there.

And then, turning onto my street and into my driveway, I think about Edward and his knots and the unraveling of them. He hasn't avoided me recently, not at all. It's as if he's been… _focused_. So, I have no idea where I stand or what the end result will be. Rather, I won't allow myself to think about it.

There've been no rumors other than Rose's thoughts of him getting another job – which he squashed after she asked him. And definitely nothing about him and Leah floating around the office. The only thing I'm certain of is that Leah is still leaving for New York in two days and Edward is still staying here.


	18. Summer

Prompt: summer

This is actually Thursday's prompt. One more after this and then EPOV.

* * *

This building is stifling. Tiny beads of sweat have formed on the back of my neck, but I ignore them, discreetly wiping them away with my hand as Alice and I follow the hall manager into the room where the party will be held. He promises the air conditioning will be repaired by tomorrow, but Alice continuously shoots worried glances my way, desperately fanning herself with her clutch trying to find some sort of relief.

"Don't worry," I say to her. "They'll have it fixed in time."

"I certainly hope so. _My God_ it's like the worst days of summer have decided to take up residence in here. I need something cold to drink," she says.

"Can I get you some water?" the manager asks. He's stout, balding, and nervous under Alice's air of authority.

"Margarita. No salt." The manager hesitates, and Alice steps toward him. "Tequila, triple sec, and lime juice?" she says then looks to me as if to say _What's wrong with this man? Why does he not understand what a margarita is?_

He stutters uncomfortably then excuses himself to fetch her cocktail.

"I just don't see it, Bella. How are we going to transform this place into something wondrous?"

"Come with me." I lead her to the center of the vast room with its floor to ceiling windows on one wall, the other three plain and white save for white lighting fixtures. Beneath us, faux wood floors—industrial and blah, and above us the absurdly high ceiling is geometrically peaked. The only decorative things in here are the exposed beams that, thank goodness, are structurally sound and can bear a lot of weight. They'll serve a purpose they never knew they could.

I remind her of the plans I sent to her last week and ask her to try to envision them coming to life. I point to each wall, explaining how we're going to drape twinkle lights from the ceiling to the floor. In front of the lights will be strips of translucent plastic sheets, several feet wide that will have abstract images printed on them. I point up, after slipping off my cardigan because it feels like it's only getting hotter in here, and remind her that silks will hang in the center of the room for some of the performers. Outside the window is a massive stone patio where scaffolding will be set up for even more performers. And I pray, pray, pray the weather holds—it's supposed to rain. I have a tent on standby, but it won't be nearly the same.

Alice's eyebrows are drawn together as she takes slow turns around, nodding. "Yes, I think I can see it now," she says. "When should I arrive, Bella dear? Oh, _finally!_" she says, taking her drink from the manager, sipping then gulping. "A little on the light side, but it will do."

I laugh. "You've already worked really hard on this, so—"

"We," she corrects.

"Okay, _we_. How about a half hour before it starts. 5:30?" Any sooner and Alice will, and I hate to say it, but she'll be in the way.

"Mr. Whitlock and I will be here at that time." Alice finishes off her drink.

The manager, Walt, and I discuss delivery times, accessibility, traffic flow, et cetera et cetera while Alice listens on, throwing in _hmms_ and _ah hahs_ and _yes, yes, yeses_ here and there.

For now, everything is on schedule.

* * *

When I get back to work I call the linen company, check the arrival time of the performers (they're flying in tonight from San Francisco—the only troop available to come in on such short notice). I call the hotel where they're staying, confirming their rooms are ready to go. I discuss last minute logistics with Angie and Intern Eric (my team for the event) and then a final call to the caterer. Angie has taken charge of the artwork (it's ready and fantastic!) and Intern Eric, now that Edward has released him from his hold, is going to have his first taste of a big party. His role won't be much more than a gopher, but he'll gain some experience, nonetheless.

It's 3:00 and I head toward the Keurig wondering how Garrett's day has gone. If Kate appreciated how much Garrett put into his appearance this morning. She's a sweet girl; I hope they don't weird each other if she feels the same way. _I hope she feels the same way!_

Standing at the coffee machine is Edward, waiting for his cup to fill, hands in pockets, shoulders slumped.

"Hey," I say, and he turns.

"Hey. All ready for Saturday?" He smiles a little, and it's sincere, but he looks really tired.

"You okay?"

Edward shrugs, moving aside so I can get to the machine. Our office kitchen is small, not meant for more than two or three people to be used at one time, so when he moves aside, he's still very close. It's warm. Not like the uncomfortable temperature from the venue warm, but warm because Edward is standing next to me, peering down with his lips barely parted. He leans forward a little and I can smell the detergent he uses for his clothes. It's fresh, calming almost, like the kind of smell you want on your pillow. I don't lean back.

"I've wanted to ask if you were okay but didn't think I should."

"I'm okay," he says. He takes in a small breath. "I've wanted to talk to you, too." We stay quiet for a moment. "Can you come sit outside for a minute?"

"Yeah, sure."

We don't say anything as we walk down the open stairs leading to the lobby. Our offices are on the second floor whereas the first is used to greet potential clients, the set-up contemporarily formal. Edward tells Bree we'll both be back in a second.

I follow him to a bench that sits a few yards down along the sidewalk. He sits then pats the space next to him. My heart begins to pound.

"A lot's happened," he starts. "For one, Leah and I are officially separated." I open my mouth to apologize, but he stops me, half-smiling. "You…how do I say this…if you had never told me you loved me we would've still split up. Maybe not as quickly, but the end result would have been the same."

"I'm sorry," I say before he can stop me again, because I truly am. Breaking up with someone is hard no matter what the circumstances. Edward rests his elbows on his knees and I just now look at his left hand. No wedding band. My heart pounds harder, like there's this pressure that we're suddenly going to be together. I should…I don't know what I should feel, or what I'm supposed to feel because I _do_ love Edward. He loves me too, but where's Leah in all this? Fuck. "What happened? If I'm allowed to ask."

"Bella, you're _allowed_ to ask whatever you want. Okay, so when I saw you, what? A couple of weeks ago at Target? That's when she told me she was offered the job. My first reaction was that I didn't want to go because of what I'd miss here. Not that I was happy for her—I was, don't get me wrong, but that came later, not first like it should have. So over the weekend we did a lot of talking. We argued, mostly about taking the dogs because the condo she was looking at didn't allow pets." He shakes his head. "Like I'd consider giving them up.

"Anyway, it was strange. Like we weren't fighting for us or anything, it was all very... cold, I guess. Later I asked her when she began her search for a place to live, and at first she wouldn't admit it, but finally she said a couple weeks prior."

"So, she'd already applied for the job?"

"Yeah. I had no idea. Found out that Monday night… the day before I came to talk to you?" Edward sits back, turns toward me and lays his arm on the back of the bench. "That's not reason to divorce someone, but then we talked more. She has her whole life mapped out, and I knew this already. Look, she didn't take advantage of me or anything like that. I walked in willingly and we were both wrong, rushing into something that, at the time, was fun or in her case, the right time. I don't blame her. I blame myself because I should have known better."

"Edward…Sam and I didn't stay together. I should have known he wasn't _the_ one. I mean, I sort of did, I guess I did but we still got married… Garrett came out of it, though." I smile.

"Garrett's a great kid."

"I know." I glance back to our office building then look back at Edward. "Are you okay? I mean really okay?"

"Yeah. I mean…yeah. I'm all right."

I don't feel so badly for Leah anymore. I don't think she's evil, either. "So…what are you going to do now?"

Edward licks his bottom lip, scratches the back of his neck, hesitating for a second. "Part two," he says.

"Part two of what?"

"What I wanted to talk to you about."

* * *

Evil cliffie is evil. Next one coming up in a few hours. Thanks for reading and reviewing! You guys are pretty awesome.


	19. Placid

Prompt: placid

Phrase Catch: high and dry

Obviously, a few hours equates to 17. Sorry! unbeta'd and longer than usual.

* * *

"I've been staying with a friend of mine. Emmett? Don't know if you remember me talking about him, but I've been camping out on his couch for a few days now, and I have to figure out some things about my house. _But_ eventually," he says. "I'd—"

"Hey, Bella? Garrett's on the phone," Bree yells from the door.

"Oh!" I look at Edward and he's smiling, shaking his head. Nothing in Bree's voice implies it's an emergency. "Um, I should probably go talk to him."

We both stand. "Yeah, go. What I have to say can wait a little longer."

Edward follows me back into the building and as Bree hands me the phone over her counter-slash-desk, he moves to the end of it, waiting.

"Hey, sweetie. Everything all right?"

"_Mom! Guess what happened?"_

"Tell me."

"_Promise you won't make fun?"_

I look at Edward, smiling. "I won't make fun. Tell me."

"_I have a girlfriend."_

"You _do?_ Who?"

"_Mom."_

"Well, I don't want to assume anything."

Garrett sighs. _"Mommm. It's Kate. She's my girlfriend now. I was wondering if you could take me to the store when you get home from work so I can buy her flowers. When are you coming home?"_

"Sure, we can do that. I'll be home by five, and I want you to give me all the details, okay?"

"_Okay. Bye, Mom!"_ he says.

"Bye, sweetie." Handing the phone back to Bree, I thank her then walk toward Edward.

He lifts his eyebrows. "All is well I take it?" he says.

"My sweet baby boy has a girlfriend," I pout. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and squeezes.

"You're not going to be one of those mothers who still buys their son's underwear when they're forty, are you?" he teases.

I poke his side. "He's ten. Let me have five minutes."

To anyone around us Edward's initial gesture wouldn't seem out of the ordinary, at all. But he hasn't dropped his arm. Instead he holds me close, his hand drifting down to my waist and all I want to do is turn into him, wrap both my arms around him. If we don't step away from each other, like right now, someone's going to get suspicious.

I move and he shrugs, unapologetically. Bree's conspicuously engrossed in a magazine, and Edward nods toward the door again. Because Bree is tremendously nosy, we begin this conversation spoken only through facial expressions:

Me: She's going to gossip. We should go up to one of our offices.

Him: No, she won't. Outside.

Me: I don't know, I…

Him: It's fine. I'd like to finish what we were talking about.

Me: I know. Me too, but…

Him: Please?

Me: Okay.

We're back outside and have walked around the building. It's all brick on the first floor but full of windows on the second.

"Why didn't you want to go upstairs?"

"Too many ears," he says, scrunching his nose as he takes a step closer.

I look up. "Eyes are just as perceptive."

"I suppose, but not in this particular case."

"No?"

"No."

"If you say so," I say.

"All right." He laughs and pulls me closer to the building. "As I was saying, eventually, when you're comfortable and when I have a permanent residence, I'd like to have a long conversation with you about that thing you said to me after you hit me. I might have already mentioned it today if you're not sure what I'm referring to. I'd also like to discuss what I'd like to do about it."

My cheeks flush. "I didn't _hit_ you."

"Tomato, tomahto."

"That thing?" I cross my arms, and if I want to stop smiling I'm going to have to bite the inside of my burning cheeks.

"You love me."

"Oh that. You'd like to do something about it?"

"I would," he says, grinning and tugs at my sweater. "Very much. I've been waiting five years to have this conversation with you."

"Five years is a long time."

"I agree."

"Talking is good," I say.

Edward leans in and presses his lips to my cheek, slow and soft. He says, "Talking is really, _really_ good."

* * *

"Is it wrong that I'm happy? It's too fast. Is it too fast?" I ask Shelly. She's sitting across from me in my living room. Garrett's been asleep for almost an hour, and she's been chomping at the bit for details.

He chose yellow tulips for Kate, but we decided instead of taking them to school where they'd probably wilt, I'd drive him to her house so she can put them in water right away. He handed them to her, she thanked him—I think. I waited in the car—and then she went back inside. Garrett was rather smiley all night until he finally conked out.

She shakes her head. "No. Why? You've had feelings for each other for a long time. It's not as if he left her high and dry. Technically, she left him. Sure, a couple weeks might seem like he's jumping the gun to some people, but those people wouldn't know the two of you. Who cares what they think, anyway. Is that what you're worried about? What people might say?"

"Maybe a little. I'm more concerned it would be disrespectful, if that makes any sense. But mostly, I think it might be too soon for him to be in another relationship."

"Bella," she says. "Wasn't he the one who said he wants to talk about it? When 'you're comfortable'? Relax. You're in love with each other. If you can't trust his judgment now, when can you?"

* * *

It's the morning of Alice's party. Garrett is having a sleepover at Shelly's house along with her grandson, whom she arranged to visit for the weekend since I'll be gone until late tonight.

The construction crew was here yesterday, assembling, hanging, securing. The acrobatic troop is climbing the scaffolding outside, pulling and wrapping themselves in the silks inside. Landscapers are setting up potted bushes and trees on the stone patio and at the entrance. I've checked the weather for the umpteenth time, and so far so good: only a twenty percent chance of rain this evening, but the tent is ready to go should that change. _Please don't change._ As promised, the air conditioning has been fixed and it's almost too cold in here now, but I'll take it.

In an hour, the linens will be delivered, tables set, and the florists will bring the centerpieces. A few hours from now, the caterers will arrive and set up shop in the kitchen. Not everyone is here yet, but there's still a buzz of activity and my adrenaline rushes. I love this part: the crazy, hectic, frenzied time right before an event. How the weeks and sometimes months of planning finally come together and all your hard work is brought to life.

Angie is testing the lighting behind the artwork and Intern Eric has been assigned to Director of You Go Here and You Go There. His usually hunched form is straight and tall as he carries around his clipboard, intermittently speaking into his headpiece even though Angie and I aren't wearing ours.

Edward is coming, too. He doesn't have to be here, we don't actually need another person, but he's coming anyway, says he doesn't have anything better to do. To be honest, I'm glad he is. I want to _talk_ to him. It's been 24 hours of furtive glances that linger a little too long to be appropriate for friends. Now, though, we don't have to pretend with each other that there's nothing between us. Obviously. I smile at the thought, like I have been since Thursday.

It's already past noon and Alice has texted only twice while she's ridden shotgun with Mr. Whitlock at the golf course. Apparently, she doesn't play but Mr. Whitlock calls her his good luck charm, so who is she to deny her husband a birdie or two? she says.

In an hour, guests will begin arriving. I've changed into a simple, sleeveless black dress that will not confuse me with those invited or the serving staff. Well, the simplicity of the dress is one thing, but the gold nametag might be a clue, too. The performers have gone back to the hotel to change into their costumes and the auction table is pretty unbelievable. There's the standard spa and golf packages, a club member's beach house that will be the winner's for a weekend, champagne and wine baskets, a diamond necklace or two, but what's really impressive is Alice's donation: five days aboard the Whitlock's sailboat.

_The winning bidder will receive the all inclusive trip of their life._

The Seer_ is a beauty of a vessel at 50ft and is yours for five days and nights to sail on the Caribbean Seas. This trip includes crew and wait staff so all you'll need to do is soak up the sun, swim in crystal clear blue water, and sleep beneath the starry skies. _

_Opening bid: $25,000_

"Got an extra twenty-five grand?" Angie asks, looking over my shoulder.

"Ha. Maybe we can pool our money, each spend a minute on the boat." She smiles. "Cute dress," I say.

She plucks at the skirt of her navy wrap-around. "Thanks. Maybe I'll land a millionaire."

"Maybe you will."

* * *

The party is in full swing and there's not a cloud in the sky. _Success! _

"Nicely done," Edward says. He just got here and _holy mother of God does he look good in a suit._ I've seen him dressed up before, but now I can…enjoy it. I do and his cheeks redden.

We're in the corner of the room right by the door that leads into the kitchen. He's standing a bit behind me, threads his fingers with mine and guides my hand behind my back. No one pays any attention to us. They're all focused on Aro, Caius, and Heidi on the silks.

"Thanks. It wouldn't look nearly as great as it does if it wasn't for Angie making sure the artwork was ready on time." It's true and it looks amazing. The twinkle lights are the only lights in the room save for candles on each of the tables and low spots on the performers who are in all white. They kind of blend in with the silks and you can't always tell what's human and what's fabric except when they dramatically drop from the ceiling which has earned them gasps and applause. The plastic prints are done in various shades of purple—Alice's favorite color—and silver, swirling and blending, but not quite. It's abstract, for sure, and I've decided I want one for my bedroom.

I squeeze Edward's hand and he whispers, pointing toward the window with his free hand because I'm not about to let go just yet. "Show me what you did out there." _He smells so good._

"All right."

He follows me along the edge of the room, and we walk past a contortionist doing something that looks unnaturally painful. I take note of the guests, their tables, the bar, the servers…so far, so good. The Whitlocks move from table to table, person to person, and Mr. Whitlock has not once left Alice's side. He's not at all what I expected, Jasper Whitlock is placid, quiet, yet the depth of the love he has for Alice is clear to everyone. It's beyond sweet.

Alice catches my eye right before Edward and I walk out onto the patio, and she blows a kiss, mouths _thank you_ then goes back to her guests. This is the first time I've seen Alice Whitlock at ease.

It's warm tonight, a little muggy but not bad. There are several people gathered around, watching these mysterious beings dressed in brightly colored leotards climbing, spinning, and jumping from rung to rung of the scaffolding that was built just for them. It's high, and I have to tilt my head back to see the top. _Please don't fall._

A man suddenly blows fire into the air to our right, and Edward and I laugh. Out here, it's not nearly as subdued as it is inside, but no matter where you are it's a good time. I press a button on my earpiece to check in with Angie.

"Twenty minutes until dinner," she says.

"Great. Eric? How're you holding up?" I ask. We've put him on auction table duty.

"Good, good. Lots of bids coming in, especially for the sailboat. Looks like we're not going to the Caribbean…Excuse me, ma'am? What? No, I'm sorry. I'm not holding bets... Okay, then…okay."

"Ah, Eric?" I say.

"Sorry," he says lowering his voice. "Some woman thought I was a bookie."

I glance up at Edward. His eyes are on me, and I don't look away. "That would be Mr. Whitlock's cousin. Don't worry about it and just make sure that table stays stocked with bidding forms."

"Got it," Eric says.

"How much longer is this party?" Edward asks.

"Til it's over." He nods. "You don't have to stay."

"But I want to."

"You're going to get bored."

"Do you want me to go?" I shake my head. "So you _want_ me to stay."

"Yeah," I say, grinning like an idiot.

He looks around then back at me. "When do you think we can _talk_?"

"Are you pressuring me?" I could flirt with Edward Cullen All. Day. Long.

"'Course not. I'd never do that. So, when?" His attempt to look serious is kind of adorable.

"Soon," I say, laughing. I back up toward the door. "Time to round up the guests for dinner."

* * *

"It's time! It's time!" Alice says into the microphone, after setting her cocktail down. "I know you've all been waiting on bated breath to find out who's going home with the fabulous donations, and I can't thank you enough for your generosity." One by one, she nods to those who've provided something, and it's taking a painstakingly long time to do so. Gotta love her, though. "I hope you've all had a lovely time this evening. I know I have," she says, looking at me. "So without further adieu…" Eric hands her a list of the winners. Angie, Edward and I have already transferred the donations to the table where Alice is. She begins reading off the names.

There are lots of applause and cheers, exasperated groans from husbands who tease their wives that they can't afford it, but it's all in good fun. Once she's finished with the names, someone yells, "What about the sailboat? Who won?"

Alice glimpses back at the list. "Huh," she says. "Seems the winner would like to remain anonymous." Of course this earns whispers from the crowd, all of them looking around the room to see if they can figure out who anonymous is. Then Alice looks my way and winks.

"Did she just wink at you?" Edward asks.

"Ah, yeah?"

"Wonder why."

"I have no idea."

* * *

My feet are killing me. I'm talking throbbing, swollen, biting pain kind of killing me. It's not until after all the guests have left do I take my shoes off, and all I can think about is going home and soaking in a tub. But it's almost midnight, and I'd probably fall asleep only to wake up a prune.

"Tired?" Edward asks. Everyone is gone and aside from all the items needing to be picked up tomorrow, a final meeting with Alice on Monday, we're done.

"I am. Aren't you?"

He shrugs. "A little, I guess. Want me to follow you home?"

"You don't have to."

"I don't, but I will. Well, I am so, come on."

We walk toward our cars. "Would you still follow me home if I said no?"

"Yep," he says, opening my door, and I climb in. "See you back at your place."

When we pull up to my house, I notice that all the lights are off next door at Shelly's. I didn't have a chance to say goodnight to Garrett earlier, but he and Shelly's grandson were probably too busy having fun anyway.

Edward follows me to the door. "Do you want to come in for a minute?" I ask, knowing that certain _things_ could happen. I'm not ready to go all the way down that road just yet, but I don't want him to leave yet either.

He comes closer, kisses my cheek the way he did before: slow, soft and warm. "I really do, but I probably wouldn't leave if I did." Edward lingers there for a moment, my eyes are closed, and I remember what Shelly said about trusting him.

He pulls away, but I stop him, grab on to his shirt and bring him back. "Just one thing before you go." And then I kiss him.

* * *

Too soon? Next up is EPOV (probably tomorrow). Thank you so, so much for reading and reviewing. Enjoy your weekend! Or if it's tomorrow where you are, happy Monday! :)


	20. Flower

Prompt: flower

We're on Saturday's prompt, and honestly, I'll probably be a day behind until it's finished the end of this month. Still unbeta'd.

* * *

EPOV

"Just one thing before you go," Bella says, and she's right there with her hand on my shirt.

She's here, with me. With _me_. Kissing me. These lips, god her lips, they're perfect. The way she moves, with me, into me. She's perfect. I want my mouth on hers all night. I want my hands all over her. I'm holding her face, and I want to roam her body, see what it feels like, see what she does if I touch her where I want to touch her, but I don't. Her fingers in my hair, thumbs on my jaw and she kisses me on the corners of my mouth but I move my head so I'm kissing her full-on again. I love her. I love her so much I can't breathe, and I want her, but I can't. Not yet, not yet. She tastes so good, her tongue against mine and her lips. I love these lips. I want to see her body, touch her skin, taste it, feel it. I want her and I move closer, press up against her, pin her against the door. I don't care if anyone sees us because I've waited. I've waited for this for too long. This is how it's supposed to be, what it's supposed to feel like. She's the one, _my_ one. We're needy, then we slow down then we're kissing again like we can't get enough, because we can't. She's not letting me go, I can't let her go, but I have to. I have to. So I slow down again, move back a little, try to stop, not too hard though, and we're kissing again. She slows down this time, lips soft and teasing against mine, her hands on my chest, my stomach and back up to my neck. I want her hands all over me, I want her to touch me… but we slow the kiss even more. Lightly, I kiss her cheeks, her eyelids, her jaw, her lips one more time and then there's space between us…we catch our breath, and I press my forehead against hers.

I kiss her again.

My heart is a jackhammer inside my chest. How am I supposed to leave? I can't pull away from her. But it's late and she's tired.

"Edward," she says. And I know. In her breathy voice, I know it's time. I wipe her bottom lip with my thumb.

"Not yet." I hold on to her a while longer. _I love you._ I won't say it aloud because I can't stay. When I do she's going to know just how much. Soon.

She smiles, sweet and lazy. "Better than chocolate," she says, and I smile back.

I press my palm against her door, touch her hair with my other hand, dazed but not satisfied because I want more of her. "Yeah?"

"Mmhm."

Bella stretches her neck, and I meet her halfway. Her lips are a little swollen and red, so we're gentle this time. "I could do this all night," I say.

"But you should go," she says, finishing my thought.

"I want to see you tomorrow. If you can't it's okay—I'll suffer until Monday."

Bella takes in a long breath, gripping the bottom of my shirt. "We might have to wait until then," she says. "I want to see you, too. I wish…stay with me? Out here for a while?"

I nod. Because if we go inside… "Okay."

Bella motions for me to sit in the oversized wicker chair that's in the corner of the porch right next to a bunch of mismatched potted flowers. She tells me she'll be right back and slips inside the house. She's flipped off the porch light as she comes out and her hands are full with a blanket and glass of water.

"Too warm?" she asks, holding out the blanket. I shake my head. She sets the water down, and we fold ourselves into the chair. Bella's head is tucked under my chin, and I fix the blanket so it covers mostly all of her and she yawns.

"Sleepy?"

"Mmm."

"Close your eyes," I say, and kiss the top of her head, drag my fingers up and down her arm.

At some point, we've fallen asleep and it could've been for five minutes or five hours. My neck and back are stiff, I'm guessing the amount of time is somewhere in between since it's still dark. Bella is out cold, snoring lightly.

Before I wake her, I tighten my arms around her and brush my lips against her hair.

"Hey," I whisper. She doesn't move, instead she snuggles further in to me and I let my head fall back, wondering if this is what it's going to be like with her first thing in the mornings or in the middle of the nights, and I know it's going to be a while from now until then, but I can't help but think about it. I still want it now, though.

I try to adjust her so she a) doesn't feel how much I want her, and/or but mostly and b) doesn't crush me if she moves the wrong way. "Bella, honey, time to get up," I say.

Groggy Bella is kind of comical. Her face is scrunched up, confused and she blinks a few times before she recognizes where she is. Her mouth draws up into a slow smile. "Hi," she says.

"Hi."

"You slept with me."

"I did."

"Did you call me honey?"

I smile.

"I had a dream about you," she says.

"Oh yeah? Was it good?"

She laughs to herself, nodding as she sits up, brushing out her hair with her fingers. "Thirsty?" I down half the water then hand her back the glass, which she finishes in under two seconds. "I wonder what time it is," she says, looking out as I stand, stretch, and crack my neck.

"Don't know. Late. Or early."

Bella takes my hand and leads me back to the chair. We end up talking, kissing, and talking some more until the sky lightens but before the sun rises. That time of day when everything is still, like the world just stops, takes a second to just _breathe_.

So, I wait for that shift to come, when the world starts up again before I tell Bella that I'll call her later. Because after being with her for all these hours, I now know that to have ended it any sooner would have been a tragedy.

* * *

a/n: Sorry to not give more of what's going on with him than this, but I couldn't throw the guy back into the reality of the other things he has going on right now. He's just too happy. However, there are only 6 prompts left this month, and if needed I might throw an extra EPOV in there somewhere if it helps the story move along to where it needs to be.

On another note, Untouchable was nom'd for FOTW over at The Lemonade Stand! Woo! (thank you, again miss obsmama) Lots of pretty fantastic stories are in the running, so head on over if you're so inclined.

Thanks for reading, reviewing and adding to your lists!


	21. Stench

Prompt: stench

Dialogue flex: "What movie should we see?"

* * *

My office is a 10x12 room that barely fits a desk, two roll-y chairs, a table between those two chairs, and a small set of shelves. I have a window that overlooks a patch of grass and a portion of the parking lot. The walls are painted a pale shade of Robin's Egg Blue and nailed to those walls are black and white prints of funky designs that I'm sure when the artist created them he was stoned.

No immediate thoughts come to mind when you see them, like "Oh, this looks like a maze" or "It kind of reminds me of water" or "Hmm. It could be a bunch of flowers smooshed together." No, it's as if Tim Burton and Piet Mondrian got together and made crazy print babies, and I love them.

I love my whole office, especially when I close the door, switch on my iPod, shut out everything else and just work. But that's hard to do when Edward is in my every thought (Not complaining. Not. At. All.), and Rose and Angie are sitting in the roll-y chairs across from me shooting out all kinds of questions about him.

"You two were pretty chummy Saturday night."

"His wedding band is missing. Did you notice, Ang?"

"He's in a _really_ good mood this morning, Bella. Know anything about that?"

"Huh. So is Bella. What do you make of that, Rose?"

I look up at the picture that, to me, is kind of cyclone-esque, and shake my head. "I don't know what you guys are talking about." They both roll their eyes as my phone buzzes with a text.

**Get them out of your office so I can see you. xo ~E**

I laugh and text back.

**Aww. You sent me an x and an o. ****Hang on. They know something's up. I want to see you too! XOXO ~B**

**Does it matter if they know? ****Capital x's and o's? You must really like me. ~E**

**I don't know. Does it? ****Eh. You're okay, I guess. ~B**

"Who are you texting, Bella?" Angie asks**.**

"Hm? Oh, it's Mrs. Whitlock confirming our meeting today."

"Angie," Rose says, smiling. "Open a window. The stench of lies in this room is too much to bear."

"You're too much to bear," I say. My phone buzzes again

**I'm just okay? Get into my office so I can change that ridiculously false opinion you have of me. **

I smile.

"I think it's her _lovah_."

**Hurry up. I _need_ to see you.**

"Must be. Only _lovahs_ can make cheeks turn that red."

**LET'S GO! **

**I'm trying! XXX! **

**Triple X? Are you sexting me? **

"Come on, you guys," I say sternly. I stand and walk toward the door, hoping they'll take a hint, but with a smile plastered on my face that's so big it would be impossible to convince a blind man that I'm trying to be serious. Yet I continue, "Whatever is or isn't going on with Edward, I think you need to respect that."

"Bullshit," Rose says.

"Rose!"

"Girl, please. You mean whatever's going on with _you_ and Edward. It all adds up! No ring. The two of you holding hands Saturday night. Yeah, Angie saw it. Edward's been miserable for the past few weeks, and even before then the only time he seemed honestly happy was when you were around."

"That's not true," I say. Is it?

"Uh, yeah it is," she says. "Look, we're not saying we think anything was going on between the two of you _before_, but there's definitely something happening now."

I sigh. "But, it doesn't look good, does it? I mean, he _just_ split up with Leah." It feels strange saying her name so casually, like it should be whispered or something. Angie and Rose side-eye each other. "What?"

"Sweetie…no, it doesn't. But really, who the fuck cares?"

Oh, I don't know. Leah, maybe?

But she's right, of course. Rose and Shelly are both right, and judging by Edward's text I don't think he cares who knows about us. I can't worry about Leah. In fact, the only person's opinion that matters is Garrett's. I've gone out a couple of times, but I've never introduced him to anyone. It's always been Garrett and me, and I have no idea how to do this the right way.

Edward and I talked about him Saturday night. Different scenarios, gradually bringing Edward in, me sitting down with Garrett and telling him that I'm involved with someone. But Garrett's recently seen Edward with someone else, and that'd be confusing to him. Not to mention if Sam messes up again. It would be too much for him to take. I'm not sure what to do, or when the right time will be if there even is one. So, we're going to wait a little while.

"We're behind you, Bella," Angie says, and then my door flies open and we all jump.

"You two. Out. Now," Edward says. He looks at me and shrugs then focuses back on Rose and Angie. Both of them wide-eyed and shocked. "Stop badgering Bella. It's really none of your business, but since we're friends I'll fill you in later, all right? Good. Now _please_ get the hell out of here." He glances at me and smirks.

"_Well_," Rose says as she and Angie walk past me out the door.

"_Really_. Don't ever interrupt the _lovahs_ 'cos you might just get your head taken off," Angie says.

"Seriously. He didn't have to go all Thor on us. Hey, what movie should we see tonight?"

I close the door behind me, silencing their giggles. "Oh my god, they're twelve."

"So, they know," Edward says, and I nod. He reaches out for my hand, pulling me with him as he walks backward to my desk. He sits against it and positions me between his legs. "That's good because I've recently discovered how much I hate pretending…Hi."

"Hi." Edward has his hands on my hips; I'm playing with the collar of his shirt, his tie.

"How'd they take it?"

"Fine, clearly."

"You okay?" he asks, gliding his thumbs over my hips.

"Better than okay."

"Talk to me about that triple X."

"Ha."

"No? Can I kiss you now?" He has the best smile.

"_Yes_."

Edward yanks me up against him and I laugh, then his mouth is on mine.

This man… kissing him is like snowflakes and a crackling fire on lazy Sunday mornings. But it's also like tipping the highest point of a rollercoaster. He overwhelms me. I want to burst and wrap myself up in him at the same time.

Edward's hands wander around my waist then separate, one moving up and the other drifting down. My fingers are in his hair, body pressed up against his and the few layers of material between us are doing a poor job of masking how much I can feel him.

"We shouldn't do this here," he says, his voice raspy. But he doesn't stop. He lips and tongue tickling and sucking at my neck, he mumbles that I smell good. He squeezes my ass and bunches up my hair.

"So do you." And then I pull back, because we shouldn't be doing this here, and if we keep going we're going to defile my desk. Maybe one day. He wipes the corners of his mouth, leans in and kisses me again, but his one hand is still on my ass. "You're going to wrinkle my skirt."

"I have an iron in my office."

"No, you don't."

He shakes his head, crinkling up his nose. "No, I don't." Edward doesn't take his hand off my ass.

* * *

At 12:56 I walk into the coffee shop where Alice decided she wanted to meet. She said our offices were too far and felt like meeting somewhere more casual. I didn't question her because well, it's Mrs. Whitlock and I've come to adore her and her eccentricity.

She's sitting in the corner, drumming her fingers on the table. She waves frantically when she spots me and I make my way over.

"Bella, dear! How _are_ you?"

"Very well, Alice. How're you?" I place a manila folder on the table that contains a few papers she needs to sign. A report card, really. I've never liked this part of the job, but Carmen insists we do this. Ask the client to answer a few questions, see what could have been done better, if anything. It's awkward, but I suppose it serves a purpose. "So, did you enjoy yourself?"

"Oh, my, yes, yes, I did. I had _such_ a good time. Members are going to be talking about that night for years! And, we met our fund raising goal and then some! It was all so, so lovely," she says. Alice pauses for a moment and reaches across the table clasping her hands around mine and her eyes glass over.

"Are you, all right?" I ask.

"I'm going to miss you, Bella. Really, really miss you. I've had such a wonderful time planning this event with you. The work you put into that party, putting up with me!" she laughs, shaking her head at herself, "well, I…I…oh, here." Alice lets go of my hands and slides an envelope across the table. She dabs her eyes and sniffs as I open it.

_Oh._

"Alice, I can't accept this. It's too much."

"Yes, you can."

"No, I don't think I'm _allowed_. And it really is too much." Not to mention she bought her own donation.

"Of course, you're allowed, Bella dear! It's a gift from Mr. Whitlock and myself."

"But Alice, not only is this the sailboat trip from the auction, it's for _two_ weeks plus airfare. I can't take it."

She gets up then sits in the seat next to me, leans in closely and I'm once again transfixed by the size of her pupils. "You know," she says, her voice caked with sincerity. "Mr. Whitlock and I never had any children of our own, and it's been such a joy getting to know you. Take the trip, Bella."

"I—"

"Take it."

"Okay."

Alice claps her hands, snapping me out of my trance.

We hug, she gives us the highest rating possible, asks if we might be able to text once in a while. I tell her yes because otherwise, I'm really going to miss her, too.

* * *

a/n: wooo! Bella's goin' sailin'. Or will she...

Next one jumps ahead some. Thanks so much for reading, reviewing, adding to your lists AND thanks for voting over at TLS.


	22. Venture

Prompt: venture

* * *

Garrett has a black Adidas duffle he uses for sleepovers. He is the most organized kid I know, yet we have no idea where it is, and Riley and his mom, Tanya, will be here in a half hour to pick him up. They're leaving for Hershey Park in the morning to celebrate school letting out for the summer. It's just for a day, but he's sleeping over at Riley's tonight since they're taking off so early in the morning.

I rummage through his closet, the top shelf, move the boxes he uses to sort his toys. Look inside the boxes because, well, who knows, it might be stuffed in one of them. Star Wars, Legos, Pokemon cards, but then I come across one that has the rock the bus driver gave him from the baseball game, the watch I'd bought for him, _my_ old watch, batteries, an umbrella, snack sized bags of Doritos and juice pouches. He has stripped down pipe cleaners and a light saber in here, too.

"Hey, Garrett? What's all this stuff? Why do you have my watch?"

"Huh?" he says, running over. "Mom! That's nothing. My bag isn't in there." Garrett snatches the box from me, pops the lid back on and shoves it deep in his closet. His hair falls in his eyes, in his _guilty_ eyes.

I cross my arms over my chest, tilt my head, and throw in a raised eyebrow.

Garrett sighs. "It's dumb, okay?"

"I'm sure it's not," I assure.

"Please? Riley's gonna be here in a minute," he pleads.

"Will you tell me later?"

"Do I have to?"

"I wish you would."

"Fine."

Fifteen minutes later we find his bag at the bottom of the hall closet. When Riley and Tanya show up I tick off a list to Garrett one more time, making sure he has everything.

He yells bye to Felix then offers up his cheek for a kiss goodbye. Riley and Garrett run to the car, I wave to Tanya, but Garrett stops and runs back.

He motions for me to lean down then whispers, "I was going to build a time machine, but I'm not anymore. See ya tomorrow."

_Of course, you were._

As soon as Tanya's car disappears, I go back into Garrett's room, open his closet and pull out his time machine box. I take out the batteries, anything metal, my watch, and stow them away. No matter how smart Garrett is, he sometimes thinks he's invincible, and The Professor will not be attempting a Doc Brown the next time we have a lightning storm.

I have less than an hour to shower: Edward's coming over. I'm having a sleepover too.

* * *

We had dinner at this low-key seafood place. The kind that's noisy, beer mugs are spotty and the servers wear t-shirts with double entendres printed on them. It's not like the food we'll eat in the Caribbean but the drinks are good and the company is even better.

We're going in December, after his divorce is final, and when Garrett spends his first Christmas away. It was Edward's idea to go then because he knows I'm going to be a mess.

Sam's been keeping his promises, calling frequently, and has put in a request to fly the D.C. – Vegas trips permanently. We had a long talk about our break up and about Garrett. A lot was thrown on the table, some kind of hard to swallow, decided to agree to disagree about a few things too, and we were honest when neither of us were before. But we're putting it in the past, venturing into new territory. Then we talked with Garrett about him spending time with Sam in Vegas over the summer and Christmas. I can't think about that now, though.

Even so, I don't necessarily forgive Sam for taking off the way he had or what he put Garrett through, but I'm tired of holding a grudge.

Being with Edward makes it a little easier.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. He starts the car and backs out of the space.

"You."

"Yeah? Pretty amazing, aren't I?"

"Oh, yeah. Humble, too."

"I try." Edward grins, pulling out of the parking lot and laces his hand with mine over the console. "So, what were you thinking about…you know, besides my amazingness."

"As if that's not enough to occupy one's thoughts for say, a few decades…" he laughs then kisses the back of my hand. "I was also thinking how differently I look at things now."

"How so?"

"You just…you make me happy."

Edward moves his hand to the inside of my thigh. "That feeling is entirely mutual, Bella Swan."

* * *

The past few weeks have given Edward and me little time to be alone: lunch hours, sneaking in to each other's offices when we can. Though we talk almost every night, sometimes until one of us falls asleep, and if we're not talking on the phone, we're texting, but that's been it. So, tonight is a pretty big deal. I don't want to sleep at all because I don't know when we'll have the chance to be together like this again, at least until Garrett knows about us. And even then, sleepovers? Not for a long time.

I give Edward a quick tour; he's been here a couple of times before, but never upstairs.

He smiles and nods to the twinkle light-plastic piece of artwork hanging on my wall. It's not the same from the event; I had one made in orange and yellow.

"I liked it," I say.

"Can I turn it on?"

"Sure, but it's still too bright outside to really get the full effect." It's true, but when the sun goes down it's as if I have my own personal sunset.

He turns it on anyway. Such a boy. "It's kind of sexy." He moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist, and when he bites the lobe of my ear, I shiver. Felix trots in and sniffs Edward's foot. "Sparrow would have a good time with you," he says.

"Sparrow doesn't like cats?"

"No, she does, but she plays rough." I tilt my head to the side as Edward brushes away my hair and kisses down my neck. Felix runs out of the room.

"Emmett doesn't mind taking care of them tonight?" He says no, and I reach up and hold onto the back of his neck. Edward slides his hand up underneath my shirt, stopping at the seam of my bra. His thumb, though, has a mind of its own.

"Is this okay?" he asks, gliding his thumb over my nipple.

We haven't had sex. He's staying tonight and we don't plan to have sex. We talked about this, said we'd wait. So we're definitely not going to have sex.

I move his hand to cover my breast, squeeze and then he takes over. Edward slips his hand inside my bra, fingers my nipple, as he licks, sucks and bites at my neck. With his other hand he dips the tips of his fingers inside my jeans, toying with the hem of my underwear but doesn't move his fingers any further, like he's teasing or waiting for me to give the green light.

_What exactly is _considered _to be sex?_

* * *

a/n: The state in which this story takes place dictates that a married couple be legally separated for 1 year before they can file for a divorce. 6 months if no minor children are involved. And, even while separated, having sex with someone else is considered adultery. Of course the other person would have to make a stink about it, but... Ugh. :)

Thanks for reading - working on the next one now where they either abide by the law or they do not. ha!


	23. Threat

Prompt(s): Threat, sweat, whet

* * *

Edward's fingers dip lower, and then slowly, _slowly_ he slides them back out, moves his other hand to my stomach. I adjust my shirt and he whispers my name, he doesn't need to, but he does.

"It's going to be so worth the wait," I say, turning to face him. "But I'm not above creativity."

He smiles.

"Can I tell you something?" Edward holds my face in his hands, and when he does this, brushing my cheeks with his thumbs, staring down at me with those bright green eyes of his that are so insanely warm, I melt. Like a silly girl who is in complete awe with something that is so much bigger than she, I melt, and—"I love you, Bella.

"I love you so damn much it hurts. I've always been in love with you, from the second you walked into that office every single piece of me was yours. A couple months are nothing compared to having a lifetime with you and even after that, if there is such a thing. So, I don't mind waiting because you're here, with me, and I love you."

Before I say anything, he kisses me. He's never said it before, but I knew; I've always known, really, but finally he said it and I am just a silly girl who is swept away with my heart beating out of my chest, kissing the only boy I will love for the rest of my life.

We're soft lips and tongues, tasting, nibbling, taking our time. No rushing because we do have forever. There's a subtle shift of light in the room, and my own personal sunset glows brighter on the wall.

Edward pulls back a little, grinning, eyes crinkled, "I can be pretty creative too, you know."

"I'm counting on it," I say and he drags his finger over my jaw, my throat, all the way down until he reaches the button of my jeans. "I love you."

"I know."

* * *

There are fireflies hovering around the oak in the corner of the backyard, some fluttering around Garrett's swing set that he never plays on anymore. Edward and I laze in the wooden chairs on my deck, our bare feet tangled and propped up on a little table, watching the fireflies flicker in a unsteady tempo.

Shelly's come out a couple of times, peeked over the fence less than surreptitiously, and I stifled a laugh when she gave a thumb's up before she finally went in for the night. I told him all about her, the talks we had and how she said to go for it; Edward said he's going to bring her donuts in the morning.

Edward drains the last of his beer and sets the empty bottle down between us. I still have a little left in mine and I play with the label, peeling the corners then pressing them back against the glass.

"What if he doesn't like me?" Edward says.

I don't need to ask. "Who?"

"Garrett. What if he hates the idea of you and me together?"

"He likes you. It's not as if you'd be some stranger showing up out of the blue. We'll give him time."

"He likes me as this guy his mom works with. It's different, a non-threat," he says, reaching over and gently pinching my elbow.

"I know, you're right..._but _he's yet to experience your full amazingness," I say, trying to show Edward that if I'm not crazy concerned about it then he shouldn't be either.

"What if, though, Bella? I've thought about this so much lately."

"So have I. I love that you're not taking this lightly; you have no idea what it means to me that, to you, he's not some accessory I happen to come along with. Please, trust me that it's going to be fine. If I thought for a second there'd be the slightest possibility it wouldn't work out, I couldn't do this…It wouldn't be fair to you, or him."

Edward nods, scratches the back of his neck for a second then heaves himself out of the chair. He points to my beer. "Want another one?"

"No, thanks."

"Okay," he says. He bends down, picks up his empty then presses his lips to the space in front of my ear. "I'm going to get a shower."

* * *

I looked.

He left the bathroom door open, my shower is enclosed in glass, so clearly it was an invitation.

Still, I've never seen Edward naked, obviously, and being the perverted person I apparently am, I took him up on that invitation and peeked (stared) while he was in the shower.

I am a lucky, lucky girl.

But I'm modest, rather less brave than he is, and I close the door when I take mine, even though I took one before he came over, I feel the need to do it again. Maybe I'm stalling.

I shaved my legs again, brushed my teeth, my hair, and second guessed the sleep shorts and t-shirt I picked out earlier. Too loose, too tight? Should I wear a bra to bed? Am I being a tease if I don't? Am I being a prude if I do?

I brush my teeth again. Rub lotion on my legs, my arms, everywhere. I blow-dry my hair, brush it out, put it in a ponytail, take it back down. I brush my hair again. I slip into the shorts and t-shirt: navy shirt, gray shorts, and they match well enough without making it seem like I don't care, but not enough to appear that I put too much thought into it.

My boobs, they look pretty good—I forgo the bra.

I open the bathroom door to find Edward sitting up in bed, leaning against the headboard with one knee raised, the other leg sprawled out as if he's sat in my bed a million times. His hair is still damp, and while he's wearing pajama pants, he's not wearing a shirt. I assumed he'd wear one to bed. I don't know why but I did, and now I'm glad the girls are flying free.

A slow smile creeps across his face, and it calms the butterflies dancing in my stomach.

"'Bout time," he says and flips down the blanket. He has the sunset turned on. "I like this thing," he says. "Much sexier at night."

"Think so?" I crawl up next to him as he slides down, wrapping both arms around me. "You smell really good," I tell him, laying my head on his chest, our legs intertwining.

"So do you." He kisses the top of my head. "Tired?"

"Wide awake."

"Me too."

"We should call in sick tomorrow."

"All right."

I lift my head. "Really?"

"Why not? We can work from here or anywhere else if we need to, right?"

"True."

We're quiet for a second and I lay my head back down, draw imaginary circles on Edward's stomach, play with the bit of hair on his chest while he runs his hand up and down my arm.

"You have a great ass," he says.

I push myself up. He's biting his lip. "With or without material covering it?"

He shrugs.

"Edward?"

"Did you know if you gently push at the bathroom door it opens? I can fix that."

"You spied on me."

"You didn't lock the door."

"Next time I will," I say, and he grabs the top of my thigh, hitches it all the way over his legs, and I scoot up, straddling the tops of his legs.

"No, you won't." He pulls at my shirt, tugging until we're nose to nose. "Like you weren't checking me out."

"You left the door open." I kiss him.

"Did I?"

"Mmhm. Or maybe since it's _broken_ it just opened by itself." He kisses me. Sitting back, I tell him that he has a pretty nice ass, himself, and he smiles.

Edward's hands travel from my knees, to the insides of my thighs, to my hips. He lingers there, at my hips, watching his thumbs moving in and out underneath the hem of my shorts. He looks back up at me, and suddenly we're not joking around anymore.

"Move up," he says quietly, and I do, lowering myself so that he's right there.

He pushes up, I press down harder, and then we start a rhythm. It's slow, we're purposely slow, almost cautious.

Almost.

Edward watches me and I watch him, and I touch his lips, he sucks my finger and we continue to push against each other, up and down, back and forth. Over my shirt, he touches my nipple, circles, pinches but not too hard, it's just enough, and my eyes flutter shut.

"Look at me," he says.

My muscles are tight, every part of me sensitive, and he's breathing faster, we move faster, I'm breathing faster. I want him inside me. My heart beats faster. Both of his hands are on my hips and he's guiding me with him while I grip his wrists. For a second, I wonder if we've crossed the line.

He opens his mouth a little more, and I'm close. God, I'm so close, so I push down again, break our rhythm and he grunts, his hips jerk and he moans as he comes which I think is the sexiest sound I've ever heard, but he keeps moving, for me. Edward holds my eyes with his, smiling with them and bucks his hips up, again then again until finally, I let go.

I smile at him, I'm shaking and I lean over, and I'm smiling. I kiss his neck, tasting the sweat on his skin. "I love you," I whisper.

"I know," he says. "I love you."

* * *

a/n They are human, after all.

Thanks so much for reading and your comments or reviews or whatever FFn is calling them for now. You guys are pretty fantastic, and very funny. See you later today.


	24. Plain

(Thursday's) Prompt: plain

* * *

Discretion is challenging. Especially so when Edward and I sit across from each other in the conference room during our monthly staff meeting and he doesn't stop nudging my foot with his underneath the table.

I mouth for him to stop and he silently laughs, leans back in his chair, twisting it back and forth as he pulls at the knot in his tie.

We're not hiding, but we're not flaunting it either. The only people aware are still just Rose, Angie, and maybe Intern Eric.

Edward looks back at Carmen as she goes on about client service, numbers, and broadening advertising, and I watch the bright expression on his face quickly fade to boredom.

He covers a yawn; I send him a text.

"It's late June," Carmen says, "which means if potential and past clients haven't already started planning Christmas and New Year's parties they're going to start now. Make sure we're able to offer them everything they want, and Bree? Start calling folks from last year and the year before."

It's always the same old thing: if not holiday parties than it's the wedding season. Edward glances at me, and I tap my phone. I look back toward Carmen.

"Rose, how are you coming along on the Black-Malloy wedding? Do you need any—"

"Ha!"

"Edward?" Carmen asks.

"Sorry," he says, half smiling and shaking his head.

Rose is sitting next to me. She clears her throat as Edward narrows his eyes at me. I slip my phone under the table, waiting for his reply.

"Everything's on schedule," Rose says.

**I would VERY much like to see your fabulous breasts. ~E**

I cough, covering a laugh, and Edward stares directly at Carmen.

"Oh my god," Rose whispers, and I tilt my phone away from her.

Carmen's eyes dart between Edward, Rose, and me. "Assistance? Do you need any?" she asks.

I text him back:

**OK but only if I get to see your ass. **

"I think Bella would be a great _ass_et to my team," Rose says, smirking.

My head shoots up. "What? No. No, I don't do weddings."

"She doesn't like brides," Edward says, and I nod, agreeing. He nudges my foot again.

I would take a thousand Mrs. Whitlocks over working with a single bride any day. They're too high strung, too emotional, too zilla-esque and then when their mothers get into the mix, which they always do…I'll stick with my benefits and corporate parties, thank you very much.

"It's true," I clarify.

Mike from accounting sits on the other side of me. He's tapping his pen against the table, like he's hammering down a loose nail. He looks pissed. "Big surprise," he murmurs, but loud enough that Edward hears him too.

Edward and I look at each other, confused, and Mike turns his chair so his back faces me.

Carmen leans forward, elbows on the table. "Rose? Do you or do you not need assistance? And please don't accentuate the word _ass_ if at all possible. We're not a bunch of high-schoolers."

Mike huffs, and Edward glares at him.

"I'll get back to you," Rose says. She shrugs at me, neither of us knowing what's got Mike all bent out of shape.

Carmen shuffles and taps papers, then stands to leave. "Okay, then. Let me know if anyone needs anything." She crooks a finger at Bree, beckoning her to follow.

Mike shoots out of his chair and stomps out of the conference room, and gradually the others leave as well.

"Um?" Rose looks back and forth between Edward and me.

"I should say something," I say, walking toward the door.

Edward runs his hand down my back. "Let it go. He's probably having a bad morning."

Rose shuffles past us. "Thanks, by the way, for putting me on the spot."

She winks. "Stop dirty texting during meetings."

"Stop reading my dirty texts during meetings," I counter, and she walks away.

I turn toward Edward. "But that remark was to me. It's just so weird for him to behave like that."

"Yeah, it kind of pissed me off. Want me to take him out?" he teases, and I shake my head. Edward tugs a strand of my hair. "Lunch?"

"Sure. Where do you want to go?"

"Wherever you're going to show me your fabulous breasts."

* * *

Lunch was breastless, thanks to Angie and Rose inviting themselves at the last minute. Alas.

Edward has been holed up in his office for the afternoon—the annual D.C. Brewfest is coming up and that's Edward's baby. I worked the event with him last year. He scoffed at my lack of hops knowledge and introduced me to Jack's Abby Hoponius Union. He bought a case for me, making me promise to never have the dregs of the beer world grace my refrigerator ever again. I haven't.

I go to our mini-kitchen to get a couple bottles of water for Edward and me, thinking he could use a five-minute break, and as I open the refrigerator, Mike walks up.

He regards me coolly, placing a cup in the Keurig. We've never had an issue with one another before. He's always been nice to me; I thought we were friends. I contemplate walking away, but then he throws a nasty look at me.

"Did I do something?"

Mike shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels. "It's none of my business," he says. He stares up at the ceiling.

"Okay, well that might be true, but can you at least tell me what was going on in the meeting this morning? If you're angry with me, I'd like to know why."

He turns toward me and lowers his voice. "I saw what the two of you were texting…Edward's _married_, Bella."

My cheeks flush. Rose seeing the texts? Okay, fine. But Mike seeing them is plain humiliating. He's _that_ guy. The one whose opinion you care about because he never has anything bad to say about anyone. He's just…kind.

But he's right: it isn't any of his business.

"He's separated." Mike pauses then shrugs dismissively. "Well, I'm sorry you had to see that."

I turn to walk away, but Mike stops me. "You could be with anyone, Bella. Why did you have to pick _him_?" he says.

Well.

We're awkwardly quiet for a while, him staring down at the floor and me staring at anything but him.

"I had no idea," I say because what do you say to someone who's admitted they're attracted to you and you feel no attraction to them whatsoever?

"Yes, well, you're not the only one." Mike grabs his coffee and brushes past me.

* * *

"He said what?" Edward's face turns red.

"He wanted to know out of all the men in all of the world, why did I have to choose you." I embellish, sitting back against Edward's desk.

Edward grins and nods, rolling his chair closer. He plants his knees on either side of me, lifts my blouse just above the hem of my skirt then presses his mouth to my stomach. "So, you're saying Mike has a crush on you," he says, half mumbling against my skin.

"Seems that way," I say, scratching his scalp.

He peeks up. "I don't think so."

"Why not? He said as much."

Edward returns his focus to my stomach, and I shiver a little. I can feel him smiling against my stomach. "Mike's gay."

"What?"

Edward lowers my blouse, stands and presses himself flush against me. "Sorry, sunshine." He kisses me. "I think it's me he wants."

* * *

Edward and I told Carmen about us before we left for the day, figuring it best before any other false assumptions were made. She didn't appear to be surprised, or maybe she just didn't care. Or maybe everyone already does know, except for Garrett of course.

I wring my hands, wearing a path in the carpet of my bedroom as I try to muster my thoughts. I've gone over my approach a million times in my head, but nothing feels right. It all seems so contrived, forced. The last thing I want to do is blindside Garrett.

I walk down the steps, and the noise from the television grows louder. It's close to 8p.m., and Garrett has yet to get his shower. He's burrowed into the corner of the couch surrounded by pillows and cushions, playing his NintendoDS. Garrett's brow furrows, his little thumbs pressing buttons quick and determined, and I stand there, watching him for a few seconds.

His skin is tanned from being outside at soccer camp and his hair has tiny streaks of blond throughout. He looks like my dad, except that my dad's hair is streaked with gray.

I sit on the corner of the couch and flip off the television. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"'K," he says not looking up from the Nintendo.

"Almost done?"

"Uh huh." Another minute passes, and I ask him to put down the game. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing. I just wanted to talk to you about something." He stares at me, expectantly. "Okay. Hmm…Okay."

"Mom."

"Sorry. You know you're the most important person in the world to me, right? You do. Good. Because you are, and I don't ever want you to doubt that. I love you so much that sometimes I think my heart might explode."

"That would hurt. Can hearts really do that? I know that sometimes people's arteries can get blocked and the blood can't get to the heart. Like Grandpa? Remember when we thought that happened to him and he had to go to the hospital, but he turned out okay?"

I nod and sigh. "Yep. I remember, but that's not what I mean. I don't mean my heart will literally explode, though, G, it's more of a feeling."

"I understand."

"Okay. So…speaking of feelings, you know how you feel about Kate? You were friends at first, but then it changed?" Garrett's cheeks pink up, and he nods. "That's a good feeling, right? You like to be around her because she makes you happy and she likes to be around you because you make her happy, too."

"She's my girlfriend," he says, and I smile.

"Right. Well, that's kind of the way that I feel about somebody." Garrett shifts uncomfortably, but I continue. "Do you remember Edward? You do. Okay. That's how I feel about him and how he feels about me."

"But what about Dad?"

"What about your dad, sweetie?"

"Don't you like him anymore?" Garrett asks. His voice is nothing less than disbelief, and this is one of the things I was afraid of. He stopped asking a long time ago when Sam and I were going to get back together, and I thought he understood.

I regurgitate the speech I told him when Sam first left, reiterate that his dad and I love him, but we don't love each other. I tell him that yes, I do like his dad, but not in that way.

Garrett ponders a while, and I wait.

"Is Edward going to live here?" I shake my head. "Seth's mom has a boyfriend. He stays over sometimes."

"I see."

"Doesn't Edward already have a girlfriend?"

_Thank you_. "No."

"I'd like to go think," he says, hops off the couch, and walks upstairs.

So again I wait, give him some time before the real questions start. There's no way he's not going to dissect every part of this. I pick up Garrett's Nintendo, switch it to Mario mini-games, and wait some more.

"Mom! _Mom!_"

"What!" I run up the steps, meeting Garrett in the hall where he shoves a box toward me. "What's wrong?"

"Where's my time machine stuff?"

"Garrett…"

"Where is it?" he screeches, his eyes watery.

"Sweetie, you said you were done with that. There were things in there that could have been dangerous. Why do you need it?"

He starts to cry, and I drop in front of him, grab hold of his hands. "I thought since Dad likes me again that I didn't have to go back to before he left but now you like someone else and what if you stop liking me?"

"Oh, sweetie, no," I promise, pulling him into a tight hug. He's crying against my neck, arms wrapped around me and I squeeze him, crying, rub his back, hold his head. "That's never going to happen. I swear to you, I will never stop liking you. Not in a million years would that ever be a possibility. You're the thing that matters most, Garrett."

He hiccups, so I hold him tighter until he tells me he can't breathe.

"You're wrong about your dad. He never stopped liking you, not once. He made a mistake, and I know for a fact that he's so, so sorry he did."

It takes some time and more consoling Garrett that his fears will never come true. We sit on the edge of his bed and after convincing him I won't think it's stupid, he admits that he thought _maybe_ he might've have wanted to build the time machine again. I make him promise me that he'll never change.

After Garrett calms down and finishes his nightly routine, we play Monopoly, staying up later than he normally would. He finally falls asleep on my lap in front of the television.

Edward calls a little while later.

"Hey. How'd it go?" he asks.

I don't have the heart to tell him it didn't go well at first and that Garrett has some major doubts, but I'm not going to lie to him either. "He's nervous," I say, and trace Garrett's hairline.

There's a long pause before Edward speaks. "I guess that's to be expected, right?"

"Yeah. One day at a time, you know?"

"Yep. You okay?"

"Mmhm."

"That wasn't a very convincing 'Mmhm'," he says.

"I promise."

"All right. So, what's next?"

Garrett stirs a little. "You meet him, officially."

* * *

A/N: Just two prompts left, but the next one will be an extra in EPOV to move things to where they need to be! So, three more chapters.

Thanks for reading and enjoy the rest of the weekend!


	25. Extra

No prompt - extra EPOV and very unbeta'd

* * *

Bella said that I don't see Garrett as an accessory to her. She's right; I don't. That thought never crossed my mind, but the entire time before Bella and I got together he was an extension of her. Someone I felt a secondhand connection to—because she loves him so much, I care about him too.

The reality is I don't know him, not truly anyway, and he doesn't know me. That part doesn't bother me. A little time will take care of that, and my relationship with Garrett will change as well: Bella won't need to describe things like how he did at soccer or making a marble racetrack from the second floor of the house to the first, because I'll be around to see it. Firsthand.

What bothers me is that he thinks I'm the guy who wants to take his mom away from him. Bella finally told me what happened the other night, and I get his concerns. I'd probably feel the same way, so again with the time thing. But what else bothers me is that Sam is back. Not that I think he should have stayed away—he never should have left his kid in the first place. I'm happy for Garrett, I really am, because it's a shitty thing to be without your dad. So, Garrett has to deal with me and getting to know his dad all over again. Bella seems to think things are different now, and I trust her judgment. It's just always going to be in the back of my mind that he'll do it again, and if he does pull that shit I swear I will fucking hurt him.

I could never do that to my own kid. I'll never be Garrett's father per se, but I'll be there.

* * *

It's around 4p.m. on Saturday when I pull up to Bella's. If things go smoothly enough, I stay for dinner and a movie. If not, we try again another day.

"Hey," she says, and her cheeks are pinker than normal.

"Hey. Get some sun today?" I ask, pointing to them. I'd touch her cheeks, but Garrett walks up behind her.

"Mmhm. Pulling weeds and all kinds of fun stuff."

I tilt my head, looking past Bella. "Hi, Garrett."

"Hi." Garrett surveys me for a minute and then walks into another room. Bella shrugs.

"Come in," she says, brushing my hand with hers. She's relaxed; I thought for sure she'd be nervous like me, but I take it as a good sign.

For the first hour, I keep a certain distance from Bella. Not too close but not too far away. I don't hold her hand, I don't lean in to kiss her even though it's as natural as breathing, and I don't try to impress Garrett. He'd see right through me.

I try to be as non-threatening as possible, but still attentive. I have no idea if I'm doing it right because he studies every little detail, and I see why Bella calls him Professor.

Garrett excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

Bella sneaks a kiss. "I think it's going well, don't you?"

"Is it?"

"Yeah, I really do. You're doing great," she says, and Garrett returns a minute later.

Dinner was still a little awkward. Some forced conversation wrapped around scraping forks and silence. He did perk up when I talked about Jack and Sparrow, though.

We're going to watch a movie. Onward.

Bella pulls a few DVDs out of the cabinet beneath the television and fans them out so Garrett and I can choose one. I wait for him to say something.

"Um, I don't know. What do you want to watch, Edward?"

Okay, this is good.

Or it's a test.

No, no, it's good. Garrett's not the kind of kid who'd purposely trip someone up. "All right." I take a second looking at our options. "Prisoner of Azkaban."

"Not Goblet of Fire?" Bella asks, shaking the DVD. I glance over at Garrett who's scrunching up his nose at Bella.

"Ah, no?" Garrett's shaking his head and looks at me. "Don't you think that Cedric guy is just too good at everything." He nods, we share a fist bump, and it's as if something suddenly clicks because he now has his full body turned toward me, sitting on his knees. I finally begin to relax, and I think I might even hear a choir singing somewhere far off in the distance.

"Have you seen all the movies?" he asks.

Bella peers over her shoulder, smiling, while she loads the DVD player. Involuntarily, I let my guard down with her, dropping my eyes to her ass just for a second. Quickly, I look back to Garrett. I don't think he noticed. I hope he didn't notice.

"Only what's been on TV. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, and they're pretty good. Have you?"

He nods emphatically. "Yeah, and I read all the books. I have them if you want to borrow them."

"You do? Sure, thanks, Garrett."

"You're welcome, Edward."

Okay. Here's the thing: I don't really want to read Harry Potter. It's not something that holds a place on my to-read list. But as Garrett skips up the steps to get his books from his room with such enthusiasm, and because I've just seen a flicker of what's to come, I will read them, happily.

Bella sits next to me, placing a hand on my leg, and I tug a piece of her hair. "Well. How 'bout that?" she says.

"How 'bout it."

* * *

June turned into July, and July turned into August as quick as a blink. Leah and I decided to sell the house soon after we separated. I've had a couple offers so far, but they're coming in too low and I won't break even—we bought too high. I don't care about making a profit; it'd be nice but the quicker the sell the better. I've spoken to Leah less than a handful of times—she's pretty happy living in the no-pets-allowed condo she wanted with her now roommate, Brady.

I don't feel guilty anymore.

Throughout summer Garrett and I have had in depth discussions about the first three Harry Potter books, yet the kid refuses to give up any spoilers. "I've seen the movies, though," I said. "You haven't seen the last two, and it's not the same as the books," he countered, and then, "Just hurry up and read, Edward!" "You're relentless," I told him, and relatively smugly, he smiled. I'm half way through the fifth book.

So now it's September. The 10th to be exact, which means in three days it will be Bella's birthday. Both Garrett and I have been warned we're not allowed to make any kind of fuss. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen.

Garrett asked if I could take him to the mall so he could buy his mom a present. He easily could have asked Mrs. Cope or even his grandparents, even though they live an hour away, but he didn't. He asked _me_. I do realize if Sam happened to be in town, he would have asked him, but Sam's not and hasn't been in a few weeks. I'm leaving that one lie for now.

We're on a covert mission while Bella, grudgingly, is helping Rose prep for the big wedding taking place later today. Garrett is supposed to be staying with Mrs. Cope this morning, and he is but she's in on the mission too, so we've snuck out for a couple hours.

"Any ideas?" I ask. We've wandered around for a bit, picked up pretzels and something to drink, but nothing has seemed to catch Garrett's attention.

"She likes jewelry," he says, looking up at me. He takes a long sip from his smoothie then slurps up whatever's left at the bottom of the Styrofoam cup.

"There's a jewelry store over there. Wanna check it out?"

He hesitates. "Mom never goes in there. She says it's too fancy."

"Do you want to go to another one?" I ask, but he's staring at this store with big eyes. "You know what? It's her birthday, so let's spoil her a little. Okay?"

Garrett looks up at me, biting his bottom lip. "It's probably expensive."

I shrug. "I don't know, little man. Might be worth finding out for ourselves."

He skims his hand along the glass display case, intently peering down at every single item while a haughty salesman eyes the trails of smudges Garrett's left behind. He holds up a finger and opens his mouth to say something to Garrett but I interrupt, "I'm sure you have some glass cleaner back there."

He flashes one of those smiles that's the equivalent to flipping someone off then turns away. I walk over to Garrett.

I realize the right thing to do would have been to ask Garrett to be careful, maybe not touch the glass, but I'm not sure if it's my place. And perhaps I shouldn't have sounded like a dick, but honestly, my concern lies with Garrett. He's already intimidated enough by being in this store without being embarrassed.

"See anything you think she'd like?"

He shakes his head. "I don't know. Oh! What about those? They're pretty," he says, pointing to a pair of tiny diamond earrings.

"They are. Do you want to look at them?" He nods, reaching into his pocket and pulls out a small handful of neatly folded bills.

"How much do you think they are?" Garrett asks.

"How much did you want to spend?"

"I have twenty-five dollars," he says.

I turn around to find the salesman wiping, squirting, and buffing one of the glass cases and ask to see the earrings. He huffs, sets down his rag and Windex then walks over.

"These?" he asks, retrieving them from the case.

Garrett picks up the earrings, holds them up to the light. "What do you think?"

"I like them. Can I see?" Once they're in my hands, I search for the price but nothing's shown. I say to the salesman, "These are twenty dollars?"

His eyebrows instantly knit together. "Oh, no, no, no. They're—"

"On sale? Hey, Garrett, how about that; told you it was worth checking out. You could get your mom something else too, if you wanted." Garrett smiles proudly handing money to the salesman, who is utterly confused. I ask Garrett to throw away his empty cup in the receptacle just outside the entrance and pull out my wallet. "If you wouldn't mind, could you please bring back five in change and put the rest on my credit card?" There. I'm making amends for earlier.

"Are you sure you want these? They're two-hundred forty-nine dollars," he says, staring down at my hand on the counter.

"That's fine." I'm not sure I like what he might be insinuating.

"All right. I'm just making sure you know the actual cost." He clears his throat, eyes dropping back to my hand.

"Well, thank you. I honestly didn't think they were on sale for fifteen. One more thing: I'd really appreciate it if you don't let him see you hand me back my card," I say.

"Of course," he says. He locks up the case, looks down at my hand.

I move it.

"I'm back," Garrett says, and I ask if he wants to go pick out a card after we've finished here. "Yeah, and maybe I can find something else, too."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. Flowers? What did you get her?"

I had a huge problem figuring out what to get Bella. Because we're in this moving forward yet still in limbo place the choices are limited. Do I play it safe and buy something generically accepted to maintain the limbo until we're clear? And by clear I mean Garrett. Or do I go all out and make it something just between me and Bella?

"Flowers would be great. Can you keep a secret?" He nods. "Are you _sure_ you can keep a secret?" He nods again, smiling. "Circus tickets."

He scrunches his face. "Oh."

"Here you are, sir." The salesman hands Garrett a bag and his change, then a clipboard to me. "If you wouldn't mind writing down your email address we'd love to have you on our mailing list," he says, and I see the corner of my credit card sticking out of his fist.

"Thoughtful, thanks."

"We send out _a lot_ of pertinent information."

"That so?" I say, chuckling while I scribble down my email then hand him back the clipboard. He hands me a brochure with my card underneath. "Touché, my friend."

* * *

"_I hate weddings."_

"That bad?" I ask, sandwiching my phone between my ear and shoulder, filling up the dogs' water bowls.

"_No, just so much fanfare, you know?"_

"Yeah, but this was a high-profile one so there had to be."

"_No, I know but generally speaking. Even mine was…sorry."_

"For what?" I laugh. "It's no secret we've both been through them." I sit on the couch and Sparrow hops up next to me.

"_Yes, but…I don't want to know about yours,"_ she says, and I hear her smiling.

"Deal. I probably wouldn't want a recap of yours either."

"_I miss you."_

"I miss you too. Your birthday's in three days."

"_It is."_

"You're taking that day off."

"_I am?" _

"Yep. We're playing hooky. I already talked to Carmen."

"_Did you now?"_

"Mmhm."

"_We're not going to have any leave left for our trip." _

"We will. If not, we'll figure it out," I say and lean my head back against the cushion…the things I want to do to her, things I _need_ to do with her. Creativity only gets you so far. "Three months, Bella. Just three more months."

* * *

a/n: meep! two left!

Thanks for reading.


	26. Lemonade

Prompt: Lemonade

I almost made this one into two chapters because it's so long! (twss) Thanks for your patience.

unbeta'd

* * *

"Where're we going?"

"Not tellin'"

"C'mon," I whine.

"No."

"Please tell me?"

"Uh uh."

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"'Cause why?"

"_Because_...I don't want to."

"Do I get my present now?"

"No," he says, exasperated.

"Better be good," I tease. I have an idea, though. He told me to wear jeans and sturdy boots and this tree-lined, winding two-lane road we're driving on only leads to one place that might require boots and jeans.

I think.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't," he says, feigning indifference.

"Not even a little hint?"

"Nope."

"What if I hate it and you went to all this trouble for me. For my _birthday._ At least give me a hint so I can prepare an appropriate facial expression. And, you know, it's my _birthday_ so you _have_ to do what I want." Looking out the window, I dangle my hand out, holding it steady against the wind and hide my smile from Edward.

He pinches my thigh. "Have you always been like this?"

"Like what?'

"A pain in the ass."

I look back at him. "I believe so, yes."

"So, you're telling me this is what I have to look forward to for the rest of our lives?" He pulls the corner of his bottom lip in with his teeth.

"Don't think making that face and saying things that could possibly turn me to goo will distract me," I say. "Tell me and I'll stop, but keep saying stuff like that, and also keep biting that lip, too."

"Bella."

"What."

He laughs. "Shut up."

* * *

We're at Great Falls National Park, and as Edward hoists a backpack out of the back of his SUV he regards me, curiously waiting for my reaction.

"I love this place," I say, and Edward swings his arm over my shoulder; I wrap my arm around his waist, fisting the hem of his t-shirt. "Well, I haven't been here since I was a kid, but I loved it then."

"I know."

"How?"

"You said something about it one time."

"And you remembered?" He nods. "Why are you so sweet?"

Edward shrugs with one shoulder. "I dunno. Just am I guess."

"That you are…Okay, we're hiking then?"

"Yeah," he says as we walk on the dirt path. "Check out the falls, climb a few rocks...if you're not too soft to do stuff like that."

Abruptly, I stop. "Did you just call me soft?"

"I said _if_ you're not too soft. I run almost daily; I have stamina," he teases, ushering me along.

"Well, I really wouldn't know now, would I?" I laugh.

"Not yet, anyway." He bites his lip again

"You're so sexy when you do that," I say, trying not to think about his stamina. _Ignore, ignore, ignore_. He leans down then bites mine.

Mid-morning sunlight dapples the path ahead, and the faint sounds of the rushing Potomac begin to grow louder. We've been walking for a while, talking about little things. Edward adjusts the strap of the backpack on his shoulder when we turn onto the dirt trail that leads to the overlook. When we get to the very end, the closest we can get without having to climb down the rocks, Edward tosses the backpack on the ground, and I pull my phone out of my back pocket.

He positions himself behind me, and I scoot between his legs, leaning back against his chest. "It's so pretty," I say, threading my fingers with his, and we watch the river gush over the lower rocks. "You forget that these things are right here, you know? We should bring Garrett sometime, he'd love it."

"He would, and the dogs too. Make a day of it?"

"Yeah. That'd be nice." I pick up my phone, snap a picture of the falls then turn it, snapping another of Edward and me.

The thing about being with Edward is that we don't need to do anything to be content. We don't have to fill quiet with talk, or go places, or do something to enjoy each other. Like now, we're just together and it's nice.

I can't think of any place I'd rather be.

Edward moves my hair, kisses me just below my ear. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Mmhm." I trace tiny circles over the back of his hand; he moves his other to the inside of my thigh.

"Would it be such a bad thing if we didn't wait?"

I turn to look at him. "But I thought—"

"I know what I said before, but the more I think about it, it seems so…I don't know…We're adults, and it's not like this is some temporary fling. I just want to move forward, with everything, and…" He laughs to himself, trailing off, and tilts his head back. I turn around completely, sitting back on my knees, and Edward looks back at me. "I mean, would it?"

I don't say anything right away. I've thought about it. A lot. Of course, I have, but I don't want either of us to ever regret a thing, and I know he doesn't either. "Only if one day one of us thought it might."

Edward closes his eyes and groans. He half smiles then cracks open one eye. "It would've been one hell of a birthday present."

"Next year. In fact, after the new year we should commit to having sex every day."

"We _will_ have a lot of catching up to do."

"Exactly," I say, and then I kiss him. His hands go straight to my hips, slide around and rest on my ass. I peek up and there's no one around, so gently I push him back to lie on the ground. "We could do it outside," I say against his lips.

"In the shower." He grinds me against his hips.

"In the car." I suck in his bottom lip.

"Against a wall."

"On your desk." I lick up the middle of his throat then bite at his ear, and push down against his crotch. _This really, really is not helping our resolve, but…_ "I'd let you fuck me anywhere you want."

"God, Bella." As he pushes me off him he tells me to get up.

"What? Why? Are you mad?" Shit. I shouldn't have teased him—

"No, but we have to go right the fuck now."

Edward jumps up offers me a hand while brushing dirt out of his hair and off the back of him.

"What's wrong?" I stand and when I do he yanks me to him.

He cups his hands on my face, presses his mouth to mine, slipping his tongue inside. "Nothing's wrong," he says and there's the slightest hint of a smile on his lips. "You're going to make me come in my pants, so we're going home where I can do it in your hand because technically, that's not breaking any rules."

_Well. _

"Okay."

* * *

We barely get our boots off before running up the steps to my bedroom. Our hands are everywhere. My jeans are unzipped, half down my hips and he pushes me back on the bed. I scoot back as he crawls on top of me.

Edward lifts up my shirt, pulls the cup of my bra down and takes my nipple into his mouth, and – _holymother _– slips his fingers inside my underwear, circles, rubs then slides them inside. I arch into him, grab his hair and his eyes flick up at me. He smiles, swirling his tongue around my nipple. Edward moves to the other while he fucks me with his fingers.

We haven't done this before, always so careful, but I don't care. He's so sexy, so damn beautiful, and I love him. I am so in love with him.

Edward moves his mouth to my neck. "Goddamn, you feel good," he says, kisses me and I tense up, panting, trembling, squeezing his hair between my fingers, scratching the back of his neck as I come. "That's it, baby. Let it go."

"_Ohgodohgod_." I jerk against his hand, he slows his rhythm and between breaths I kiss him, tell him how much I love him then reach down, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

We grin at each other, and Edward helps me tug his pants down just enough for me to slip my hand inside the elastic of his boxer briefs and wrap it around his dick.

I've never touched his dick before, but he's never touched my bits either. Through clothes, yes, but _Jesus_ he's thick, and I smile a little wider.

"Roll over," I tell him. As he does, I pull up my pants, leaving them unzipped then take off my shirt. Straddling him, I brace my hand on the mattress near his head and begin to stroke him. Slowly at first, and his hands wander up my arms, down my back, over my breasts then I move faster.

Edward moans as he raises his knees, lifts his hips and reaches up pulling my face down to his. We kiss between him groaning out expletives and then his mouth opens, his eyes clench shut, and I repeat his words, tell him to let go as he does, pulsing and coming in my hand.

He smiles lazily, humming. I kiss the corners of his mouth.

"You're doing the laundry," I say, wiping us up with my shirt. He rolls his eyes, and I hop off the bed to go wash my hands.

"Just this once," he says. "I'd rather cook the meals than do the laundry."

"In general?" I ask, walking out of the bathroom.

He's lying on his side with his head propped up on his hand, all zipped and buttoned back up. I lay next to him, and he traces the edge of my bra with his index finger, making goosebumps appear over my flesh.

"No. You wash the clothes, and I'll do the cooking."

Getting excited over chores is the silliest thing, but my heart skips like crazy.

* * *

"Make a wish, Mom," Garrett says, resting his elbows on the table, eyeing which piece of the cake he's going to ask for.

I glance up at Garrett and then at Edward who's standing behind Garrett. "What if I already got my wish?"

"Doesn't hurt to ask for another," Edward says, smiling. Garrett stands in his chair and whispers something in Edward's ear. He nods and whispers something back.

"What are you two up to?" I like how that sounds—_you two_.

"Nothing," they say in unison. Garrett tells me to hurry up before the candle wax drips all over the icing.

I make a wish and blow out the three candles they put on the cake because they weren't allowed any more than that. But then Garrett figured out that each candle would equal twelve years.

"Present time!" Garrett shouts. He runs into the other room and brings back a very small box and two envelopes, dropping them on the table in front of me. "Open them!"

"Okay, okay," I say. Garrett drums his hand on the table as I rip open his card first. "I love homemade cards. And look… we're Lego people." I show him, as if he hasn't already seen it, but he nods proudly anyway.

"Yeah, Edward and I couldn't find one in the—" Edward clamps his hand over Garrett's mouth.

"You went out together? When?"

Garrett sheepishly looks up at Edward but he laughs. "When you worked the wedding," Edward says. "Don't ask details. Just open."

"Yeah. No details, Mom."

"How did you do this without me knowing? Where did you go?"

"She doesn't listen very well, does she?" Edward says to Garrett.

"No." He sighs. "Mom."

I throw my hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry." I ask if I should open the box or the other envelope, and again at the same time, they tell me to open the box. "Oh my God. You guys, they're beautiful," I say, pulling Garrett into a tight hug.

"That's all Garrett," Edward says, and I look at him, skeptically. "He picked them out and paid for them with his own money."

"They were on sale!"

"Must have been some sale," I say.

"Yep. We got lucky, didn't we little man?" Edward says, and Garrett agrees. I take out the earrings I'm wearing now and replace them with the diamond studs. "They look good."

"Thank you," I say, but I'm not referring to Edward's compliment. He winks. "And thank you best son anyone could ever ask for." Garrett laughs, and tells me to quit smothering him with kisses.

"Open Edward's," Garrett says, so I do.

Inside the envelope is a blank white card, and inside the card are three tickets for the circus. I glance up at Edward. At first I'm confused, but then it dawns on me, and I smile.

"First kiss," I say, and he nods. Garrett's the one who's confused now, so I ask him to cut the cake.

"Read the inside," Edward says, coming around behind me. He slides his arms around my waist. My eyes flick toward Garrett, but he doesn't give us a second glance.

_I promise you everything. Thank you for making the first move._

_Love you,_

_Edward_

I spin around, hugging him. "I love you," I whisper in his ear.

"Love you, too," he says. "Happy Birthday, Bella."

* * *

By the end of September, Edward sold his house, and in the middle of October, he moved into a new, smaller place which is just a few streets over from mine.

For Halloween, Garrett dressed as Plo Koon, and Edward stayed well after Garrett went to sleep. Not overnight, though. Still not overnight and I'm struggling because it's so hard to let him go. It's hard not to be with him completely.

And things have gotten more relaxed which I think makes it even more difficult to remember limits. Edward's started coming over more, staying later; Garrett and I go to his new place; Garrett tries to teach Jack and Sparrow tricks. We continue to quickly fall into this norm that it's the three of us and not two, sometimes plus one.

I want it to be permanent. I want to actually _start_ a life with Edward, break away from being tethered to our self-imposed rules as well as those we have to follow.

In November, I watched Edward and Garrett play around with each other, develop their own inside jokes; Edward give Garrett advice about girls; I've listened to Garrett ask "Where's Edward?" instead of "Did my dad call?" though when Sam is in town for a three-day layover Garrett's face lights up.

On Thanksgiving, the three of us drove out to my parents' place. Mom cooked the turkey and mashed potatoes. Edward and I brought stuffing and pumpkin pie. Dad and Garrett showed Edward the fishing pond and Dad's John Deere, and Mom said she's never seen me happier.

This month also marked the end of the separation waiting period, and Edward filed for divorce.

I'm slashing days off my mental calendar with a thick black marker.

They say it can take up to six weeks for a judge to sign off—we're hoping for less. I don't even care about going to the Caribbean anymore; I just want Edward.

Two more weeks pass by and I barely noticed the inevitable shift that happens in the beginning of December: when storefronts become festive and the air changes from crisp and colored leaves to icy and something a little bit magical. I've busied myself so much by helping out Angie with a corporate holiday party, picking up last minute things for our trip and Garrett's to Vegas, and Christmas shopping for my family, Edward's, and even Alice that I almost missed it.

Edward, Garrett, and I put up a Christmas tree and Garrett threw around unsubtle hints of what he wants while Edward untangled lights. We said we weren't going to buy each other gifts since we're going away, but I'd already bought something for him. Oh well.

And then I finally met Carlisle and Esme Cullen. Edward is so much like his dad it's unreal, right down to the way they hold their forks. And Esme, well, she's amazing. Both of them took to me and Garrett like we were already a part of their family. That afternoon when we were at their place for lunch Esme pulled me aside. She kissed my cheek then said, "I've been waiting for you. Take good care of my boy." I told her I would.

It's been a whirlwind. Everything happening all at once but at the same time I'm still holding my breath. Not because it's been so busy that I've forgotten to breathe, but because I don't feel like I can, yet.

Our office holiday party tomorrow, the 14th and still no word from the courts. I don't think about the probability that they've become overrun with whatever the hell boggles up the court system. I don't think about Edward's decree being buried under a stack of papers when it only needs a simple signature. And I don't think about how my stomach is in my throat because we're so close to being together for the first time.

I did think, and maybe stupidly so, his divorce would be final by Saturday and reserved a room at the hotel where our office party is going to be. But it's Friday and still nothing.

I pick up my phone to dial the hotel to cancel my reservation, and after punching the first three numbers I hang up.

The room _is_ really nice and we'll be drinking, so…I'll just continue to risk carpal tunnel on him and he'll cramp up his fingers on me. We'll just be in a different place is all. We'll be like teenagers only legal with credit cards to purchase fancy hotel rooms for the night.

Yep. Just another day.

What's another week in the scheme of things anyway? Life, lemons, lemonade, etcetera.

But I don't want lemonade.

I want sex. I want lots of sex. Sex with Edward. Lots and lots of sex with Edward.

I lay my head down on my desk frustrated and deprived as I think about Edward's fingers and the way his hips move against me when I sit on his lap or when he has me pinned against a wall.

I dial his office. "I'm guessing you and your mailman don't have a close enough relationship so he might call you when you receive something official in the mail."

"_Unfortunately, no,"_ he says, laughing. _"I want you, too."_

"Sorry. I'm being whiny."

"_No, you're not. Believe me this waiting thing sucks for me too."_

I sit back up. "I love you," I say just because I want to. "Pack a bag for tomorrow."

"_I love you too. Bag for what?"_

"I got us a room for after the party."

"_Oh, yeah? When did you do this?"_

"Last week. I just thought, you know…it'd be nice."

He sighs. _"It is nice. I'm glad you did. Now I'm really looking forward to tomorrow night,"_ he says. _"Hey, I have a couple of things to wrap up before we get out of here. See you in about an hour?"_

"Okay."

45 minutes go by and Edward pops into my office. "Ready?"

"Yep." I shut down my computer, lock up the office, and we head down to his car. He's a bit more smiley than usual. "What?" Edward turns the ignition.

"Just you and me together. Locking the world away, pretending nothing else exits but us for a few hours."

I smile as he pulls out of the lot. It's true, we haven't had any alone time in weeks, but Edward never complains. "This is what I love about you."

"Really?" he says. "Not because I'm so damn good looking? A fine specimen of a man?" I shake my head, rolling my eyes. "No?"

"No."

"So, I'm not good looking."

"Not really."

"Huh."

"I know."

"Maybe I should cover my head with a paper bag from now on."

"Can I draw a face on it?"

"Are you capable of drawing a better face than the one I already have?"

"I'm not too shabby with stick figure heads."

"Hmm. How about a mustache? Like one of those thick ones that curl up at the ends? I've always wanted one of those."

"Sure," I say. "Matching bushy eyebrows?"

"Okay, but not too bushy because that would be unattractive."

"True."

"Why are we talking about this?"

"I don't know."

He pauses. "So, you said you love me."

"Yes."

He slows for a red light. "How much?" he says, glancing at me from the corner of his eyes.

"What do you mean 'how much'?" I ask and a tiny part of me wonders if he's still joking around or if his question comes from doubt that I had no idea existed. Or is this one of those things where he's done something stupid. "Why," I say, suspiciously.

The light turns green and we drive a little further before turning into _our_ neighborhood. Edward pulls up to the curb, and now I'm nervous. He unhooks his seatbelt and shifts to face me, his expression is unreadable: his eyes are smiling but his mouth is flat. "All this time spent just waiting for the moment when it really is you and me. When that time's up…I don't want to wait another second. When there's nothing holding us back anymore I'm planning to jump in with both feet."

"I don't understand. I thought we—"

"Are you in the same place?"

"_Of course_ I am. You know this, don't you? Have I done something to make you think otherwise?"

"No, but I need to hear you say it. Know where you are."

"But we've sort of talked about this, right?"

"Not really." He grins, lifts his eyebrows.

I wrack my brain thinking of conversations we've had over the past few months. We talk about everything, but I thought it was just assumed that we'd, I don't know, be an official couple? I mean we talked about our future but it's all been _talk_, no actual planning. "We really haven't, have we?" He shakes his head. "Huh. Well, I'm right there with you, standing at the edge of a cliff dangling one foot over."

"Okay," he says, then pulls away from the curb.

"Okay? That's all you wanted me to say?" I confirm, and he nods.

"Kind of cheesy how you put it, though. Don't you think?"

"You're mean." I laugh.

"Says the girl who'd put a bag over my head." He parks in my driveway. "I'll pick you up at seven tomorrow."

I lean over to kiss him. "I'd never cover your face with a bag, sir."

"Good thing because then I'd have a hell of a time doing this," he says, kissing me one more time.

"You're sure you're all right? No doubts about us or me?" I ask, and look at him, try to see if there's the slightest flicker anywhere in his eyes, but there's none.

"I've never doubted anything about us, Bella. See you tomorrow."

* * *

Close to three hours ago my parents picked up Garrett for the night, and in those three hours I've checked my overnight bag about a zillion times, twisted my hair up, let it fall back down, tried on too many pairs of shoes to wear with my dress that I'm not sure I love any longer.

The thing with trying to find the perfect cocktail dress is nearly impossible if you're a) not 16, b) not a whore, and c) not a grandmother. But when you do, you sing a quick chorus of hallelujah then pray no one else happens to have found the same dress because really, unless you're about to socialize with people who have one of a kind designer dresses made for them, the chance is there.

It's 6:55 p.m. and I take another peek in the mirror. I do like this dress. I'm not a lacy kind of girl, but I like the way the black lace overlays the burgundy silk and how it's cut like a silhouette down to my knee, but not so tight so that I can't sit. And I like the capped sleeves, but I especially like the V-back and imagine feeling Edward's hand there against my bare skin.

_Okay, not bad and my boobs look fabulous, thanks to my new bra, so…okay._

At 6:57, Edward knocks on my door, and I smooth down my hair one more time.

I swing it open and even though a burst of cold air rushes in, I don't feel it because Edward looks so, so good.

"Wow," he says, and I flush under his gaze. "You're beautiful."

"So are you," I say, and he is. Black suit, black tie, his messy hair a little shorter than it was yesterday. I reach up to touch the back of his hair, but he takes my wrist and presses his mouth to the inside of it.

"C'mere," he says, lifts my chin and his warm breath washes over my cheeks. "I love you so much, Bella."

His lips are suddenly on mine, soft and gentle, and I'm taken completely off guard. He sweeps his tongue against mine, and he tastes like mint. He sucks at my bottom lip, and I slide my hands up around his neck, floating up just a little bit higher.

Edward holds my face, running his thumbs over the bottoms of my ears, and there's a certain reverence in the way he kisses me tonight, like he's doing it for the first time. Something new wells up inside me.

He kisses me one, two, three more times each lasting a little longer than before until he pulls away, barely, brushing his nose alongside mine, and I'm spinning.

My eyes flutter open. "Hi."

"Hi," he whispers.

"What was in that kiss?" He smiles. "Do we have to go?"

"For a little while."

* * *

I can see my breath cloud up in front of me as we walk to the entrance of the hotel; Edward tucks me into his side. It's colder than it usually is this time of year, and it smells like snow.

The outside of the hotel is decorated in thick swags and wreaths, red and gold ribbon, and white lights. In the lobby there's a Christmas tree that stands nearly twenty feet high adorned with golden balls, wooden drummer boys and turtle doves among other ornaments and a thousand tiny white lights. If the fireplace weren't on the opposite side of the lobby the whole scene would make for a traditionally perfect postcard.

We head toward the room where they've slated our party.

"We can still skip it," I say, but Edward laughs and shakes his head.

"We'd never hear the end of it."

So in we go, and we're met with Nat King Cole's soulful voice, clinking glasses and laughter. It's warm and dim and almost sleepy.

Edward and I pass the time making small talk with others, drink champagne, dance a little, but since we've been here I can't keep my eyes off him.

He's hardly left my side. He touches my back or holds my hand, he whispers in my ear, or his lips find my cheek or brush against my hair. And I reciprocate everything he does, though unintentionally. I touch his arm, lean in to him, kiss his lips when no one is looking because any absence of contact feels wrong. Conversations barely hold my attention since all I can think and see is Edward.

It's not the champagne or the temperature of the room or that the ambience is carefree; something is different tonight.

Edward looks down at me and smiles. "We'll stay for another hour then say goodbye to everyone, okay?"

"Sure."

"Or would it be bad if we left now? It'd be easier to disappear if there were more than fifty people here."

I smile. "We haven't been here that long. Maybe everyone is drunk enough they won't notice?"

Edward and I both look toward the bar: Rose and Carmen are doing shots. Mike is leaning against it, beer in hand and when he sees us he lifts his palms, tilts his head as if to say _I'm still here, Edward._ Edward shrugs then kisses my temple, and Mike holds a hand over his wounded heart.

"How does it feel to be so wanted?"

"You tell me." He runs the back of his hand over my stomach. A waiter approaches us with a tray of hors d'oeuvres, asks if we'd like one. "Hungry?" Edward asks me but neither of us turn toward him.

"No, thank you."

"None for me either, thank you," Edward says, and the waiter walks away. He runs a strand of my hair between his thumb and index finger. "You know that cliff you mentioned yesterday? I was wondering what was at the bottom."

"Not sure, exactly, but I know it's something so spectacular that I'll want to stay there forever," I say and the corner of his mouth lifts.

A roar of laughter erupts by the bar. Edward slides his hand around my waist, keeping the other in his pocket. The DJ invites people to dance. I tug on the end of Edward's tie. Angie breezes past asking Edward and me to join them. By the small of my back Edward pulls me closer, leans down, grazes his teeth on the lobe of my ear, and I shiver.

He whispers, "Guess what came in the mail."

We don't say goodbye to anyone. Instead we quietly leave and ride the elevator up to our room.

I thought this moment would be different, like expelling air from my lungs that'd been trapped there forever then shouting out to anyone who'd hear me that Edward Cullen is finally mine. But it's not.

This moment _is _Edward. It's always been him, and I've been aware of this the entire time I've known him, but now I can feel it, all of it. It fills me up, and keeps me warm. He makes my heart beat and flutter and my skin tingle.

Edward wraps around me in the sweetest way because yes, he always was and will forever be mine.

* * *

A/N: Edward gets the last chapter. Thanks SO much for reading. xoxo


	27. Affair

Prompt: affair

EPOV

* * *

There was this moment Bella and I stared at each other for longer than what was, at the time, appropriate.

I couldn't help myself.

It was during an event we worked at the downtown Hilton almost four years ago. She was in the hotel kitchen speaking with the chef, and I needed to ask her something, though what that something was I don't recall.

What I do remember is when I entered the kitchen her back was to me. I leaned against the wall and watched her knowing all along that I shouldn't.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she spoke. She put her hands on her hips and nodded a couple of times. She laughed along with the chef. This rich, sincere laugh she does that makes people turn their heads just to get a glimpse of the face that belongs to that incredible sound.

That's how it is for me, anyway.

They shook hands, and then she turned. Bella didn't see me at first and I didn't try to get her attention because I wasn't ready to break out of that little bubble I'd created just yet.

But then she saw me.

Bella didn't smile and neither did I, but something flickered in her eyes. We stared at each other, unblinking, unmoving, and during that flash of an instant that felt pretty close to a lifetime I wanted but never thought I'd have, I'd come to realize that I was in deep, deep trouble.

She shared a secret with me, told me without saying a word that she felt the same way I did. Relief and need and want flooded me, but there was nothing I could do about it. To even think about having an affair was…I couldn't.

Bella broke the connection first, and it was like a weight on my chest because I didn't want to go back to reality.

For the longest time I pretended it didn't exist. That moment, our connection. I made excuses and tried to delude myself it wasn't real, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stay away from her.

I've been in love with Bella Swan for close to six years, and now I'm finally able to show her and be with her in every way humanly possible.

We waited, and it was a struggle, many times painful, but in the end I'm glad we did. The anticipation up until now nearly destroyed me, especially not saying anything to her earlier this evening. But as I watch her glance around our hotel room, discovering the candles, trailing her finger on the bottle of champagne, smelling the flowers and then looking at me in a way that is meant for me and no one else, it was so, so worth it.

The things I arranged are inconsequential really, but I wanted her to know that she is not. I'm going to take my time, kiss every inch of her skin, savor every touch and taste because we only get one first time.

I take the two steps I need to stand in front of her, hold her face in my hands, suck in her lip, taste her tongue. She tells me she loves me and I say it back as she slides my jacket off my shoulders, down my arms, and we let it drop to the floor.

We shed our clothes, I walk her back to the bed, but I stop her because I want to see all of her. Her cheeks fill with pink, and I tell her she's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen, because she is.

"Don't hide," I say, taking her hands away from her breasts, and she's trembling. Bella breathes out a nervous breath, and I kiss her. "You're perfect," I say. And maybe it's too much, and maybe she thinks I'm only saying these things because these are things that people say, but I'm not. "I mean it, Bella."

Bella glances down, bites her cheek to keep from smiling, and I laugh under her scrutiny. _Okay, I get it._ So I close the space between us.

"You're so warm," she says, and we're kissing again and move back onto the bed.

There's a rhythm inside my chest that beats so fast I wonder if I might explode.

She's under me—it's where I want her to be. I want to watch her face when I'm inside her, see her hair fanned out around her face, have total control over her reactions when I slide down her body to taste all of her.

Tomorrow, later, an hour from now we'll do different things. I'll make her scream my name. I have no doubt every surface in this room will be used in one way or another, but for now I want her to just feel me.

She's still trembling. "Are you cold?"

"No," she says with a smile. She drags her foot up the back of my leg, and tries to still herself, like she needs to reassure me.

I move her hand to my chest. "Feel that?" I ask then kiss her lips, her cheeks, and her forehead.

Bella hooks her other leg around mine, lifts her hips; I could be inside her now. She's warm, her coarse hair rubs against my stomach, and it's with every ounce of restraint I have that I don't shift up, press the tip of my cock against her, push all the way inside her.

I want to. I want to.

I frame her face with my hands, feel her nipples, her breasts against my chest. I want to pull her closer to me. I need to wrap myself around her, need her to wrap herself around me. Fuck, I'm so hard.

I kiss her, move my mouth to her chin, slide down, push myself up. I kiss her neck, she tickles the back of my neck with her fingers, lightly scratches my back and tightens her legs around my waist. Bella tries to bring me back down, and I falter for just a second.

I shake my head and kiss her shoulder, her collar bone, slide down to her breast. Every dip and curve is mine. Her stomach, her sides, her hips. I sit up, hold her ankle, kiss her there. Then her calf, the inside of her knee and then move on to her other leg.

I watch her chest rise and fall. I ache because I need her. I won't last long.

I place her legs back down, she raises her knees, opens up for me, and I position myself between her thighs. I look up at her. She's watching me. Bella smiles this smile and I want to forget about being slow, forget taking my time. I want to _fuck_ her.

_Slow down._

I grip her thighs, glide my nose down the inside, lick and suck her skin.

She moans. It's lazy and nearly as sexy as her watching my every move. I stroke myself, and then I taste her.

Her hands are in my hair, her head thrown back. She's slick. I suck, circle my tongue, suck again, dig my fingers into her hips.

Fuck_._ This girl.

"Edward," she breathes out.

_Say my name again_.

I hum against her. "Edward," she says, almost begging, and I feel her legs tighten, her foot digging into my back. She grips my hair, pulls me closer—_not yet—_and I blow a light stream of air against her. She bucks, I smile, make my way back on top of her.

Bella wipes her thumb across my bottom lip, rakes her teeth over hers—she's going to kill me. I suck in her thumb, push into her at the same time until nothing separates us. As deep as I can, as close to her as I can be and we make this sound, like neither of us expected it to feel so fucking good.

That rhythm inside my chest builds again.

_She's mine she's mine she's mine._

We're arms and legs, lips and tongues, finding this perfect cadence with every thrust and roll. I take her hands, hold them above her head, look at her eyes. "You're so fucking beautiful," I say, and she stretches her neck up to kiss me.

Bella tells me to go faster, so I do because I can't keep this slow pace any longer. She moves her hands down, scratches my back, and grips my shoulders. She makes the sweetest sounds I've ever heard when she says my name as she comes and finally, finally I do too.

Every thing about this girl is everything I've ever wanted, and I tell her. I brush her hair back from her face which shines a little from sweat, and she tells me she wants to take care of me until she's 105. We promise a lot of things to each other, some ridiculous but most aren't. She tells me she loves me, and I tell her she better.

* * *

Five days before Christmas we were hit with the worst snowstorm in decades. It trumped Snowmageddan from a couple years back, and everything was shut down. Needless to say, Garrett didn't go to Vegas and Bella and I didn't go to the Caribbean. Bella never mentioned it, but I think she was relieved. To be honest, I didn't mind because spending Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with Bella and Garrett was pretty fantastic.

Mrs. Whitlock said the boat was ours whenever we wanted, which is a good thing because I'm planning to take her up on that offer in a few months.

In January, Garrett turned eleven. Bella and I surprised him with a new bike which he couldn't ride until February after the second snowstorm was cleared from the streets.

In March, I went to visit Bella's parents, Charlie and Renee. The next day I talked to Garrett.

By the end of our conversation, which started out awkward and scary as hell, he asked if he could help pick out a ring.

The next day I got down on one knee and asked Bella to marry me.

She said yes.

* * *

_**4 years later**_

"Just around the block?" Garrett asks, dumping the bucket of water down the driveway.

"You don't have your permit," I say. Garrett throws his head back and groans, and I laugh.

"_Please?_" he says. "I'll drive slowly."

I spin the keys to the Mustang around my finger. "Like how slow? If you're going to drive as slow as your mom does, then no way."

"Excuse me?" Bella says, coming out of the house with our daughter in tow. Elizabeth's almost two and the spitting image of Bella with a head full of brown hair and huge brown eyes. She pats Sparrow on her head then climbs down the porch step before running over to me, and Felix paws at the screen door. "I'm responsible. There's a difference."

Garrett and I roll our eyes at each other, and I bend over to pick up Elizabeth. "Mommy drives like a grandma, doesn't she?" I say. She laughs and says no.

"Ha!"

"Mom."

"What?"

"You do…but," Garrett says, turning to me. "I'm responsible, too."

"I know," I say, tossing him the keys. "We'll go once around, or a couple of times until she sees you behind the wheel." He smiles, though his cheeks are bright red.

"Who?" Bella whispers.

I kiss Elizabeth on her cheek and hand her to Bella as Garrett climbs in the driver's seat. "I'll tell you later." Elizabeth squirms in Bella's arms, reaching back for me. "Daddy will be right back, okay?"

_Daddy._

It's surreal, like I suddenly woke up to this life of being a husband and father. It shocks me and thrills me in this inexplicably perfect way that I don't know how it's possible to love my family more than I do.

Sometimes I worry that if I blink it all would have been just a dream.

But it's not.

What Bella and I have, whether it's arguing over something stupid or experiencing the most mind-blowing sex ever, it doesn't matter, because in the end what we have together is totally and completely untouchable.

* * *

A/N: Thank you SO much for reading, reccing, reviewing, adding this little fic to your lists. It's been a lot of fun writing, and I hope it's been fun for you, too. See you soon, hopefully.

all my best,

~t


End file.
